


Time's Heartbeat

by LyraGranite



Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraGranite/pseuds/LyraGranite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of XIII-2, Etro performs one more instance of time travel, a last-ditch effort to create a timeline where humanity can survive. Hope and Lightning, both desperately wishing for one more chance, are thrown back to the very beginning. Now, it's up to them to change the past -- and the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The 11th Day

As Etro feels the mortal wound dealt to the man - the creature - she'd once named a champion, as the last dregs of her life drain from her, there are yet whispers at the edge of her awareness -- “please, I can still fight”, “please, I can still change this”, “please, let me try, you never even gave me the chance to try--”

And her strength is fading, but her gates are spread through seven-hundred years of time already. What’s one more trip just a little further back? So she scoops them up, those voices, those souls who’ve fought so hard for her all this time, and she gives them their chance. One chance, one long shot, to make a change large enough to erase the end of time itself.

\---

The last thing Hope had known was triumph turned sour; awful, angry denial and dark clouds spilling out of the sky. And then there was darkness and a feeling of warm hands wrapped around him, and then he opened his eyes on a scene straight out of his memories. The beach at Bodhum, just after nightfall: with a flashnet raised in the harbor and a crowd of people clamoring all around.

It was strange, though. Usually, in his memories, he was shorter and his mother was there with him. Instead, he felt the same as ever. He was in his academy uniform, and he could smell the faint scent of airship oil clinging to it. That smell, it would have come from clambering through the ship over the deck on his way to meet up with Serah and Noel. But would that sort of detail carry over to a memory or a dream?

The fireworks hadn’t started yet, but the general party atmosphere was in full swing. The beach was crowded.

“This is… strange.” Hope stepped forward, thinking to get out of the crowd and get his bearings. Was this a dream? A memory? An echo in time, like Serah and Noel had described encountering on their travels? But no, they had described Noel’s half-real memories as indistinct, fuzzy around the edges. This was anything but. He could hear snatches of people’s conversations, feel the give of the sand under his feet, count the vehicles monitoring the sides of the flashnet and preparing for the fireworks show. NORA’s cafe was ten meters away, and he could smell Lebreau’s special, but it was off somehow, like she’d used different ingredients than he was familiar with. There was a hint of spice in the air… and Hope realized it smelled like a variety of pepper they never been able to find again after Cocoon fell and all its fal’cie shut down.

It felt real. And then, while Hope was still watching the entrance of NORA’s cafe, he saw his mother walk out. He choked. A bag of fresh fried snacks in one hand, Nora scanned the crowd and frowned. Hope watched as she wandered forward into the crowd, calling his name. Unwillingly, he started to move towards her. He stopped. Dream or no, she was calling for her fourteen-year-old son, not him. Had she lost track of him in the crowd? Hope couldn’t recall anything like that in his own memories of this night. As he fought with himself over whether to approach her, a commotion broke out a little ways away in the other direction. Someone was pushing their way through the crowd; a wave of people scattered to make space and avoid being knocked over. The runner passed through the column of light cast through NORA Cafe’s storefront, and Hope could see a flash of crimson red in the light. “Light?” He ran after her, calling out. “Light!”

She turned and stopped short, and yes, it was Lightning. “Hope?” She frowned, every line of her body screaming stress. “Is that you?”

“Yes! It’s me!” The sight of her grounded him. Her eyes, more than anything, made him begin to believe this was really, truly real, that somehow he’d -- they’d both -- been taken to their own past.

Lightning’s shoulders loosened incrementally. “...Alright. Let’s keep moving.”

They moved out of the crowd, and Hope trailed after Lightning as she kept walking. After ten minutes she finally stopped, tossing her head towards one of Bodhum’s odd raised houses.

“This one’s mine,” she said, and headed up the stairs. Hope followed her up. “We can talk in here.”

They moved into her living room and sat next to each other in silence.

“Caius showed me,” Lightning said suddenly. “Serah died.”

“...Yes.” Hope averted his eyes. “I’m sorry. I tried to watch over them but I-- I don’t really know what happened.”

Lightning let out a bitter laugh. “It’s Etro’s ‘gift’. Serah… she saw the timelines change, and the strain on her body…”

“I… think I understand? I remember Serah and Noel talking about something like that… a long time ago. But Lightning,” Hope leaned towards her and took her hand in his. “We’re back at the beginning, aren’t we? We can change everything. We can fix everything. Serah and Noel told me -- Etro was dying because of the miracle she performed the day of the Fall, right? So what if we prevent the Fall? Or change it, somehow, so that Etro doesn’t need to intervene?”

Lightning nodded. “That’s probably what the goddess wants. I just-- I failed her before,” she said, referring to Serah. “I put her in danger, and then she-- she was hurt.” She frowned. “Even if it never happened now, I…”

“It’ll take time to forgive yourself.” Hope smiled. “I know, Light.” The smile dropped from his face. “So we will try to change things. How? What’s the first step?”

“Serah’s already been marked. I won’t let her become a Cie’th, so I’ll have to get marked again, too.”

Hope’s hand tightened around hers. “I’m with you every step of the way, but… Are you sure?” Lightning looked down at their joined hands and started. Hope let go, readying an apology, but then she spoke.

“Hope, the back of your hand…”

He furrowed his eyebrows, then looked. There, peeking out from underneath his gloves, was a very familiar pale symbol. He hissed. “The burned brand?”

Lightning’s eyes widened, and she unzipped her sweater. “I have mine, too.”

“But my mark disappeared the day of the Fall.”

“Fang couldn’t remember anything, but Vanille said Fang’s brand changed after she prayed for Etro’s mercy,” Lightning reasoned, “Could it be Etro’s L’cie brand?”

“Can Etro even make l’cie?” Hope asked dryly. “Even when you were her knight, you weren’t a l’cie anymore, right?”

Lightning focused for a moment. “I don’t feel like a l’cie. I can’t do magic.”

He shrugged, resigned. “Well, if it is then at least we know it shouldn’t progress. And I think we know our focus, too.”

“Change the future.”

Hope nodded. “And save as many people as possible. That starts with Serah, and with the Purge.”

Lightning shut her eyes, her brow creased with worry and sudden exhaustion.

Hope watched her with concern. “Listen, Light. There’s a few more days left before it starts, and I remember what you and NORA managed to do with just a few hours. Get some rest. We’ll start working on it tomorrow.”

She opened her eyes and glanced up at him. “Hope, you grew up a lot.”

“... Yes?”

“When I realized I was here, I replaced my past self. I know I did, because I woke up in the middle of talking to my superior, Lieutenant Amodar. I haven’t changed, so it didn’t make any outward difference. But what about you?”

“I don’t know,” Hope answered uneasily. “It… was probably the same for me. My mother will be worried.”

“You want to save her, don’t you?”

“I… I want to save as many people as possible.” He smiled wanly. “Really, Light, I let go a long time ago. I was too busy worrying about my best girls,” he joked. “Turning to crystal, disappearing from the timestream -- the three of you sure know how to make a guy worry.”

Lightning’s eyes narrowed, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Your ‘best girls’, are we?”

“You’re my everything, if you’ll have me,” Hope answered seriously. “I don’t know how much you saw from Valhalla, but honestly Light, everything was always for you.” He cracked a grin. “And Fang and Vanille are family, of course.” He softened. “And I couldn’t face you if I didn’t do what I could to look out for Serah.”

“Though of course you wouldn’t dream of interfering with my sister’s relationship.”

“Of course not,” he said with a straight face. “No more than you would.”

After a moment, they both broke into soft laughter. Eventually they settled into silence again, and Hope looked up.

“So? Since I’ve gone and brought it up already, will you have me?”

Lightning was silent. “When did you get taller than me?” she asked finally.

“Would you believe I was fifteen?” she shot him a skeptical look, and he laughed. “You’re right, I could never have grown that much so quickly. It was a close thing, though. I was sixteen.” Lightning nodded her acceptance. “I’m twenty-seven now,” Hope continued. “And you’re the same as ever. It’s strange, isn’t it? I guess that’s time travel for you. But Light--”

“I told you once that you and I are partners,” Lightning said, interrupting his chatter. She took his hand again. “I saw. Everything you did. You… you kept facing forward, while I was stuck guarding our backs in Valhalla.”

“We both did our best, didn’t we?”

She looked down. “There’s no-one else I’d rather rely on, Hope. Really.” She squeezed his hand. The tips of her ears were red. Her eyes met his shyly, and Hope was overcome.

“Lightning,” he whispered, leaning in and bringing his other hand up to turn her face towards his. “I love you so much,” he breathed, and brought his lips to hers.

The kiss lasted only a moment before Hope pulled back. Lightning stared up at him, face red, body trembling. “That was my first kiss,” she murmured.

“Ah, um. Mine too.” He hadn’t given himself time to socialize when he was young, and later he’d been too preoccupied -- and too distant from other people, and with too much responsibility weighing him down besides -- to think of looking at anyone else.

“I feel like I’m on fire,” she complained. “It was just a kiss. How is that fair?”

Hope let out a breath of relief, releasing her hand to wrap his around her waist and draw her closer. Her back was warm even through her jacket. “It’s fair because I feel the same way,” he told her. Then, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes.”

He did, relishing the feeling of long-held fantasies fulfilled. Her lips were always glossed; one of her small concessions to vanity, and one she’d maintained even during the period of time they’d been trapped on Pulse. He took her lower lip between his teeth, teasing it, sucking it between his own. He could taste the gloss. Her hands wrapped around his back.

The hand he’d held to her face moved back into her hair, and she thrust her tongue into his mouth. Hope responded in kind, and honestly it mostly felt awkward, but then the sensation sank in of her tongue against his, her mouth around it, and it was intoxicating. He subconsciously thrust further into her mouth, and the feel of warmth and gentle friction brought other things to mind. Lightning pulled away, gasping, and he realized they’d fallen back onto the couch at some point.

She sat up and leaned down to take off her boots. “You too,” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am,” Hope replied, breath short. He took off his boots, and after a moment stripped off his gloves and removed his harness and jacket as well, tossing everything on the floor. Lightning was pulling open the straps on her own gloves, and Hope went to work pulling loose the belt around her waist. She shivered when he pulled it free and his bare hands brushed against her arms. His hands sought out the latches of her jacket, and she leaned into him slightly.

She slid her jacket off her shoulders and dropped it. Next came the heavy nylon holster that held her gunblade; they set it on the couch. Lightning unfastened the belt around her hips and let the pouch wrapped around her leg drop to the ground. She stepped forward and kissed him again, roughly pulling his tie off his neck and tossing it on the floor. “Bed,” she breathed into the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” Lightning had her arms pulled close around his shoulders, so he wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her up, slipping his other arm under her legs in a princess carry. He looked down at her in his arms for a long moment, taking in the way she leaned into his chest, her eyes half lidded. He felt a rush of heat spread all the way to his toes, and he smiled softly.

“Which way?” He asked. “I haven’t actually been to your house before.” Lightning nodded to their left. Hope swept down the hall. He leaned in and dropped Lightning on the center of the bed, then followed on hands and knees to crouch over her.  


\---  


For Lightning, contact was electric. She had been alone for such a long time, with no comfort but the ability to watch history from Valhalla’s halls, helpless and impotent while all her friends fought for their lives. And then suddenly she’d been in a crowd of people, and none of it seemed real until Hope appeared before her. His presence was an anchor, as it had always been. His touch… was something else. Something she hadn’t expected. Nothing changed in Valhalla. But at some point while she was there, her feelings had changed.

He leaned over her. “Lightning,” he breathed in her ear, “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” Lightning shivered, eyes drooping shut.

“Do what?” She asked breathlessly.

“Make love to you. Make you mine.” He brought up a hand and unfastened his first two shirt buttons, then leaned in and laid his lips at the side of her neck. His hand found the zipper of her sweater, pulling it down the rest of the way. With a jerk, he pulled it open from the bottom and moved his lips to graze feather-soft over her shoulder, her collarbone, her brand peeking out from under her bandeau top. He scraped his teeth across the bared skin, sending a jolt through Lightning that went straight to her groin. She moaned quietly. Hope straightened, kneeling with his legs on either side of her hips. He pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion and laid his hands on the bare sides of her stomach. “Strip,” he told her. “I want to see you.”

Lightning flushed. “How long?” she asked. “Hope, how long have you--”

“Hundreds of years,” Hope replied flippantly. “But I’ll answer your question properly.” He sat down with his legs folded on either side of her body, his weight pinning her hips. “I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. If we’re talking about desire… that’s a more recent development.” He stroked his hands up her sides, and her flush darkened. “I’ve had dreams, of course. Stray thoughts. But I didn’t really take them seriously. Not until I saw you in an Oracle Drive. You looked the same, and I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I knew you were alive. And I started working on making it to the time and place where the Oracle Drive said you would be.” He smiled bitterly. “I thought I could see you again in the future, show you how well I could protect you now. And it just hit me. The idea of you and me. I could consider it seriously, all of a sudden.”

Lightning’s hands rose, hesitated, and then she gripped his arms. “It’s the past, not the future, but… you did see me again after all.”

Hope nodded. “Yes.”

Her breath caught. “Then it’s a promise, right? I’ll protect you, Hope. And you’ll protect me.” Lightning wrapped herself in those words like an impenetrable shield. She would protect Hope. And Hope would protect her. They could beat anything so long as they had that.

He smiled again, and this time it was warm and open. “Light, I will always protect you. With everything I have.” He leaned down for another kiss and Lightning returned it eagerly, her hands sliding further up his arms. When had he become so solid? He was slim compared to men like Snow or that friend of his, but his arms were solid wiry muscle, and his shoulders were wide and straight. It seemed like the only thing that hadn’t changed was the smile he’d just turned on her. She didn’t know what to feel, but she wanted to see more of that familiar smile. And, she acknowledged with another flush, she wanted to see all the changes, too.

He bit her lip again, and she felt herself shiver. Hope stopped kissing her and pulled away. “Light?” He asked. “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Lightning repeated emphatically. She released his arms and sat up a bit, shimmying out of her sweater and quickly stripping off her bandeau, leaving her top half bare. Hope froze. “Are you just going to stare?” she asked wryly. She reached down and hooked her fingers in his pants’ waistband. “Don’t stop now.”

“Right,” Hope breathed. “Right.” His hands, frozen on her sides, slid up over her ribs that had been bared when she removed her bandeau, then forward over her breasts. He covered them, one in each hand, then gripped them hard. Lightning arched her back and gasped with pleasure. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. This kiss was warm, wet, and intimate, comfortable in a way the last one hadn’t been. She felt as though she were sinking into him, or perhaps the reverse, as though he were sinking into her.

Starting tomorrow she would work to save everyone. But Hope was so warm, so resolute and clever, so everything that was admirable in a person, she’d always seen that, and for tonight he was here for her, and her only, and so she would-- he ended the kiss to mouth enthusiastically down the line of her neck, cutting off her thoughts. “Hope,” she gasped. He planted one last kiss somewhere around her collarbone, then lifted his head and embraced her, his cheek pressed to hers and his arms wrapped around her back.“I mean, it, Light,” he said softly, lips next to her ear. “We will fix things. And you won’t get taken away again, and you won’t be alone, and we won’t lose anyone.” His grip tightened. “We won’t.”

The feeling in her chest was hot; it flushed through her whole body, rose in the back of her throat. Was this relief? She felt like crying. “We won’t,” she agreed, voice choked. “We’ll win, and all of them will be safe and happy.”

“That means you, too,” Hope said, pulling away to look her in the eye. “I can’t be happy without you, Light. You and me. We’ll get through this.”

There was that heat again, in her face, behind her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came to mind. She could feel the skin of his back under her splayed hands. She wanted him closer. She looked at Hope, waiting patiently for a reply. “Pants,” she said finally, her voice a little watery.

He paused for a moment, then got off her so they could both strip. Lightning pushed off her skirt and peeled her swimsuit bottom away without sitting up, then rolled over and helped pull Hope’s pants down and tossed them to the foot of the bed. While he pulled down his boxers, she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him urgently. When the kiss ended, they were both panting.

“Light?” Hope said quietly.

“It’s a promise,” she said emphatically, feeling like her chest was about to burst. “Let’s kick some fal’cie ass and tell Caius Ballad exactly where the hell he can get off.”

Hope grinned slowly. “Right,” he agreed, brushing his fingers through her bangs and down the line of her face. Then his smile softened, and he pulled her closer.

For a pair of amateurs, they did quite well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Don't look at me_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Okay no but seriously the intention is for this to get. Really big. Totally indulgent shippy first chapter aside. Shit is gonna go down and it is gonna be great. Okay. Look forward to it. Bye.


	2. The 12th Day - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far:
> 
> As Etro dies and the gate to Valhalla is ripped open, she pulls Hope and Lightning back through the timeline to the night of the fireworks in Bodhum. Reunited after many years, Hope professes his enduring love for Lightning. They reaffirm their partnership, and resolve to change the future and save as many people as possible.

 She woke blearily, confused by the brightness of her bedroom -- she almost always woke early in the morning, when the light from Phoenix was still dim. Hope shifted next to her, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and his arm wrapped around her waist. He sighed in his sleep, and she realized she could feel his breath on her neck. She shivered. There was a sort of numbness inside her that had been thawing ever since she left Valhalla. As if that place had slowly drained her of all feeling without her notice, and now it was flooding back.

Her skin felt like it was on fire in all the places they were still touching, and they were touching in a lot of places. Lightning sighed and placed her arm over his, pressing back into his warmth. Her body soaked it in like daylight. She could stay here a while longer. The world didn’t need them just yet, there was nothing she had to get up for--

An insistent thudding interrupted her thoughts. She frowned. It stopped, then started up again more insistently. “Sis?” came a muffled voice, “Are you there? I brought the cake!”

Serah, she realized. Before she’d been granted time off due to what she later realized was the beginnings of the Purge, she and Serah had made plans for a birthday brunch before her originally scheduled afternoon shift. The last time around she’d been worried because Serah hadn’t come home the night before, and-- she sat bolt upright and leapt out of bed, causing Hope to stir.

“Sis!”

“I’m on my way!” she called back, hunting out her discarded clothes. Most of them were tangled in with the duvet she and Hope had pushed off the bed last night; picking them back out would take too long. Lightning went to her dresser instead, and tossed on a one-piece swimsuit and a sundress Serah had picked out for her several months ago. She’d never worn it before. It was made with a somewhat gauzy material that was much more to Serah’s taste than her own, and it was loose and flowy. But it was dark enough to cover her up, and it was better than nothing.

“Light?” Hope mumbled from the bed.

“Birthday. Serah’s here.” He hummed in acknowledgement.

Still barefoot, she dashed down the hall to the front door and threw it open. “I’m here.”

“Did you oversleep? That’s unusual.” Serah’s smile was tense, worried. “Lebreau said she saw you run off last night during the fireworks show, and I was concerned, so Snow and I showed up a little early.” Her smile fell a little. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t come back last night. Something came up, and… it got late, and I ended up staying with Lebreau afterwards.” Serah stepped in and went towards the kitchen, Snow a step behind her with a cardboard pastry box in hand. “Is everything alright, sis?”

“Morning!” Snow added helpfully.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly. “I just… had a shock last night. It’s nothing.”

Serah stopped short as they passed the couch, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Lightning,” she said slowly, “Is that a man’s jacket on the floor?” Snow tilted his head curiously, and Lightning felt her neck flush.

“You can set the cake down on the kitchen table,” Lightning told him pointedly. When he tarried, she gave him a pointed look.

“Why is there a man’s jacket on your floor?” Serah asked, voice hushed. She noticed Lightning’s things. “Why is your jacket on the floor?”

“Why is your boyfriend at my birthday brunch?” Lightning retorted. “I don’t remember inviting him.”

Serah stiffened. “I know you don’t like Snow, but you don’t have to get revenge on me by--”

“Hey Light?” Hope called from the bedroom, sounding much more awake than he had mere minutes ago. She wasn’t sure whether to curse or bless his timing. “Do you have a pair of socks I could borrow?”

“Top drawer,” she called back. “I’m not trying to spite you,” she told Serah. “It just happened.”

“Who is this guy? And why did he call you Light? No one calls you Light.”

Lightning flushed. “Some people do.” She tried to think of an example. Well, Fang had, in the future.

“I do what?” Hope asked, emerging from the bedroom with tousled hair and rumpled clothes. He laid a hand on Lightning’s back. “What did you say was happening?”

“My birthday.”

Hope brightened. “Right, that’s today! I didn’t get you anything…”

“How would you?” She asked dryly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But Light, I’ve never had the chance to celebrate your birthday before. I want to do something.”

“We’ve got bigger things to worry about.” Lightning was not smiling. She wasn’t.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Serah broke in, frustration clear in her posture, “But would you mind an introduction?”

Lightning struggled for a moment with what to say. His real identity, obviously, would only pull the records of a fourteen-year-old boy who was probably missing right now. The hand on her back pressed slightly, reassuring.

“My name is Hope,” he said. “Oerba Huei Hope.”

Light turned and looked up at him, inquiring. He smiled and shook his head slightly. He’d explain later.

"Well then... Hope." Serah looked entirely bewildered. "Exactly how long have you known my sister?"

"Serah!" Lightning exclaimed, affronted.

"A very long time," Hope replied. "Don't worry about her not saying anything, though; we've been out of touch. It was a long time ago." He paused for a moment, then added, "It's actually because of work that we met again."

Serah frowned, suddenly concerned about something. "Are you in the Guardian Corps too?” She bit her lip. “Sis, is he... staying for your birthday?”

Lightning realized the source of her discomfort. If she was planning on revealing her l’cie status, a stranger -- and an apparent soldier, no less, if he and Lightning worked together -- would be dangerous. She had nothing to worry about; she and Hope already knew, and they were on her side. But Serah didn’t know that. Lightning shot Hope a significant glance.

Hope sighed. “Alright,” he said “I’ll just get started on our project.” He sat on the couch to put on his boots, then stood and donned his jacket. He worked on fastening the harness as he continued to speak. “I hope you’re planning on making this up to me?”

“I’ll save you a piece of cake,” Lightning said.

“But Light, I don’t like sweet things. Except for one…” He smiled suggestively.

Lightning flushed. In front of Serah? Really? But the butterflies in her stomach were not complaining. “Fine,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him down to meet her. He brought one gloved hand to cup her face and kissed her slowly. “I’ll have more birthdays,” Lightning said when they broke away.

“Yes, you will.” Hope seemed to radiate the same resolve she was feeling. Then his attitude brightened. “Leave it to me, Light. I’ll get things set up. He turned to Serah and nodded. “Nice to meet you, little sis. Don’t you worry about a thing, alright?”

“Hope!” Lightning punched him in the arm. He waved it off and left.

Serah was horribly flustered. “Sis, seriously, who was that guy?” She shook her head. “Is it really okay to have that kind of relationship with someone you’re working with? And he looks older than you--” Lightning shook her head, and Serah cut herself off.

“We really are sisters, aren’t we?” She let out a small huff of amusement. “To think you’d worry about me the same way I worried about you… But forget about Hope for now. You promised me a meal, didn’t you? And you and that Snow of yours can tell me what’s been on your mind.”

Serah paused. “Is it that obvious?”

“That you’ve been upset? Absolutely. I may have been wrapped up in my own feelings, but I could still see it.” She sighed. “I should have paid more attention.”

Snow was sitting at the kitchen table, restlessly jogging his foot. While Serah gathered up her ingredients, Lightning selected a knife and moved to stand at the counter. She paused, knife in hand. Without facing him, she said. “Snow. You’re childish, you’re too self-confident, and you and your friends need to learn to pay attention to your surroundings before you get someone killed.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But I haven’t been fair to you. Say your piece.” She set down the knife, turned around with crossed arms, and waited.

Serah was frozen, vegetables in hand. Snow hesitated for a moment, then stood. “I love Serah!” He said, bold in manner.

“And?”

“We’re going to get married!”

“You think you can take care of her? Make her happy?”

“Absolutely!”

“You won’t ever run off and leave her?”

“Never!”

“If you make her cry, I won’t forgive you.”

“I never want to make her cry!”

She turned to Serah. “You love him? You really think he’s good enough for you?”

“Yes,” Serah replied emphatically, finally coming unfrozen. “Sis, Snow is--”

Lightning nodded, cutting her off. “I can accept that. I’ll trust her to your care.” Her gaze sharpened. “If you let her down, I’ll punish you.”

Snow nodded resolutely. “Understood.”

Lightning relaxed her position, turned to Serah, and smiled softly. “Then congratulations, Serah. I want to be there for your wedding.”

Serah was frozen in shock. “You’re… not mad? I know it’s really sudden.”

“I’m mad. You’re marrying this guy and I’ve only met him once, and at the time he was pulling something that would have gotten him and all his friends arrested in any other city. He’s reckless.” She said this bluntly. Snow bristled a little, but Lightning ignored him. After all, he’d never lost his recklessness. He had left and gone wandering the timelines to look for Lightning instead of staying by Serah’s side. Sure, he’d done it for Serah’s sake, but he’d still made her lonely. “And I’m jealous,” she confessed. “I wanted you to be a child for a while longer. But…” she turned back to the counter and started chopping the vegetables. “Mother would say, ‘if Serah loves him, then I have to accept it.’ So.” She turned back to the counter. “I’ll cut the vegetables. Set them here.”

Serah moved slowly, confused and off balance, and placed the vegetables on the counter. “I’ll prepare the meat and rice,” Serah said quietly. “Cut the vegetables into small pieces. I’m making a favorite of mine; it’s Lebreau’s specialty.”

“Sounds good. If there’s anything else, we’ll talk about it after we’ve eaten.” Lightning said quietly. “For now, let’s relax.”

\---

Hope headed into Bodhum’s shopping district and lost himself in the crowd. It was thinner than it had been yesterday and the days before, and restless. PSICom blockaded the city at some point in the small hours of the night. Closer to the blockade, Hope was sure the atmosphere was starting to turn dangerous. There were still some people moving around the shopping district, though, trying to pretend that everything was business as usual.

That would only last until later today, when PSICom officially announced the purge.

Hope passed a public computer terminal and sighed. Back in the future, he’d want a computer for the work he was about to start. It was an adjustment, being back on Cocoon. He’d taken it for granted when he was young, but Cocoon… even though there was internet, its only use was the shopping network. Shopping network terminals had a simple OS that didn’t allow for much tinkering under normal circumstances, and the personal computers sold in stores weren’t built to be networked or to use the wireless.

In the future, he’d become accustomed to forums and messaging and public databases, but personal computers on Cocoon were all completely isolated. Cocoon had toy cameras that could automatically send pictures to be developed at the store, but they couldn’t do something as simple as send the pictures to the user’s computer at home instead.

In hindsight, that artificial and unnecessary isolation was probably another tool of Barthandelus’ to control humanity and keep them in the dark. Controlling information was easier when people couldn’t talk to each other except in person or by phone or radio. It was so unnecessary, Hope thought, disgruntled. All of Cocoon was connected by a network; the televisions, the shopping network, even the automatic processes run by all the Fal’cie in Cocoon were all connected. Mass communication wouldn’t require any extra work to set up on the part of the Fal’cie.

He shrugged internally. It would be nice, but for now he had a more readily convenient tool: the comm-device still attached to the belt of his Academy uniform. Members of Psicom and the Cavalry had kept using their own comm-devices in the future when they’d joined the Academy, and Hope still had Captain Rygdea’s comm-address memorized from when Rygdea had been his superior in the Academy, long ago. It was a place to start. Go big or go home, he thought, and dialed the number.

\---

Rygdea’s comm buzzed, and he frowned at it. He’d just finished telling that Fang woman she had to stay in her room again, and he was in no mood to deal with anything else. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. But if it was General Raines, it might be important. It buzzed again, and he checked the caller ID. He frowned. Unknown caller? But it was a military number -- had the prefix exclusive to military-authorized devices -- and military comms always had names registered. He picked up.

“Who is this?” He demanded.

“Ah, you finally picked up.” spoke the voice on the other end. An obviously masculine voice, Rygdea decided. It was a pleasant-sounding tenor, and there was a hint of humor in it, as if the speaker was amused about something. Rygdea wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

“Who are you, and how did you get this number?” Rygdea repeated.

The man on the other end paused, as if deciding what to say. “A friend, I think. Or, at the very least, someone who shares your… interesting ideals.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Before Rygdea could ask him to elaborate, he spoke again. “Oh, and I have a message for your commander. And his guest. Tell them the Purge is not what it seems, and her friend may be in grave danger.” The voice, Rygdea noted, was sounding far from amused now.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“That’s all. Tell them, then have Raines call this number with his own comm. I’ll want to speak to his guest.” The transmission ended. Rygdea supposed the mysterious caller wouldn’t pick up if Rygdea tried to call him back himself. He supposed it could be some kind of prank, but… an unknown number and all that knowledge no-one should have? He couldn’t risk it.

He grimaced and called his superior. “Sir, this is Rygdea.”

“Captain.” Raines replied. “Has something come up?”

“You could say that, sir. Permission to retrieve your guest and meet with you? There’s a reason.” He hesitated. “A secure location might be best.”

Raines paused, curious. “My office should be fine. Go ahead.”

The Pulse woman made a few token protests when he returned to her room and told her to follow him, but she listened. She watched their surroundings carefully as he brought her to General Raines’ office, obviously still working on putting together a mental map of the ship. Raines’ door opened automatically to let them in.

“I admit some curiosity, Captain.” Raines said immediately. “What exactly is this urgent issue?”

“I’ve been… contacted, sir. Unknown ID, military number. The caller demonstrated knowledge of our sympathies. … And our guest.” Raines stood from his desk, and Rygdea offered his comm. “He wanted to speak to you. Use this number with your comm; he implied that he won’t answer a call received from mine.”

“While this is all very interesting,” Fang spoke up from the edge of the room, “I fail to see why I have to be involved.”

Rygdea frowned. “He told me… he said, ‘the Purge is not what it seems. Your friend is in danger.’” Fang tensed. He shook his head. “He wouldn’t say anything more than that. Just told me to have the General call him.”

“And I will do so,” Raines said decisively.

The comm buzzed three times before picking up. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then, “That was quick. Who it is I’m speaking to?”

“This is Brigadier General Cid Raines. May I request the same courtesy?”

“Ah, good. General Raines, please put your comm on speaker.”

Raines’ eyes narrowed. “You don’t put forth a good first impression.”

“My apologies. I’m afraid I have no choice but to be mysterious for the time being. If you put the comm on speaker, however, I can introduce myself to your guest.”

“And not myself?”

The speaker paused. “I don’t mean to be rude. Even if I gave you my name, it wouldn’t tell you anything.”

Raines was unsatisfied with this answer, but he relented. Fang stalked forward and spoke immediately. “Alright then, who are you? And what do you mean she’s in danger?”

“Your friend is in no danger of discovery for the time being, if that’s what you’re concerned about. She is still in Bodhum, however, and if she’s caught up in the Purge she’ll be in a much bigger pinch than I believe the Cavalry has anticipated.”

Raines frowned again. “Who are you, PSICom? How do you know about the Purge?”

“Ah,” the speaker said in a tone like a person who’d just remembered something. “I am sorry, I’ll get to that, but first -- General, how much time do you have left?”

“Time?” Raines said, perplexed. “What do you mean by that?”

“You haven’t had any personal meetings with Primarch Dysley? No close encounters with Cocoon’s Fal’cie?”

“No. What are you talking about?”

“That’s a relief. I recommend you stay away from them as much as possible. Especially the Fal’cie Eden and the Primarch.” He huffed. “You swore an oath to serve Cocoon. The Fal’cie would have you keep it, willingly or no.”

Rygdea felt a chill crawl down his spine. “Are you saying they’d make the General a l’cie?”

“If it served their purposes? Absolutely. So, General. Stay away from Eden. Keep your men away from there as well. The Fal’cie… are not above turning one individual in order to lure in others.”

Fang slammed her hand in the desk. “What about Vanille, dammit!”

“Yes.” His voice warmed. “Oerba Yun Fang. My name is Oerba Huei Hope. I swear to you, I am your ally. If you wish it, I can track down Oerba Dia Vanille and return her to a safe location.”

“Oerba Huei-- you’re from Oerba? Where were you when Vanille and I woke up?”

He sighed. “I wasn’t here. And I’m truly sorry for that. I--”

“You’re offering us large favor in looking for Oerba Dia Vanille,” Raines interrupted. “What do you want in return?”

“Ah yes. You see, it’s PSICom’s intention to have the so-called ‘deportees’ of the Purge executed when they reach Hanging Edge. After all, who in Cocoon could tell the difference?” Rygdea recoiled in shock, but Raines’ solemn acceptance showed that he’d had his own suspicions. “You want to protect the people of Cocoon, right General?”

“I do.”

“Then, please trust me and lend me as many ships and pilots as you can spare for the day of the Purge.”

“What for?”

“The Primarch has told Cocoon that the people of Bodhum are being sent to Pulse. I intend to see that he tells the truth about that -- whether he intended to or not.”

“Are you insane? What good is interfering with the Purge if they’ll all be sent to hell anyway?”

“Listen, you-” Fang was interrupted by the man on the other end.

“Pulse is my home, General. It is not hell. I intend to welcome the deportees and see to it that they thrive.”

“Why would you want to help those miserable Cocoon thieves?” Fang demanded.

“If Cocoon has cast them out, then they aren’t Cocoon. They’ll be people of Pulse soon enough. And we’re all family there, aren’t we? We have to be.”

Fang nodded reluctantly, then realized he couldn’t see her and said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, General? If nothing else, disrupting PSICom’s purge is sure to put a thorn in Eden’s paw.”

Raines considered, tapping his fingers on his desk slowly. “I’ll trust you. I can spare five troop craft. Enough to move two-thousand people, a little more if they crowd in.” Bodhum was a small town, but with so many people there for the fireworks it was barely a quarter of the population marked for the Purge.

“Thank you. It will have to be enough.” He fell silent on the other end, then hummed in concentration. “Your maps are better than mine. Get the ships to to the train tracks, as close to the Edge itself as you can get. I can’t promise to return them to you in mint condition, but I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll put my faith in you, Oerba Huei Hope. I hope you realize what it’s worth.”

“And what about Vanille?” Fang asked insistently.

“I’ll find her today. She’ll stay with me or one of my associates. That will be safer than risking her on one of the trains.”

“Risking her?” Rygdea asked, confused.

“Yes,” the voice replied absently. “I can’t guarantee that any of the trains will get through in the first place. Especially with elements in Bodhum likely to resist the Purge violently… they could cause a lot of chaos.”

An uneasy silence fell on Raines’ office.

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll be dealing with that as well.”

Raines folded his hands. “Explain to me one more time why I should trust you?”

“You have no reason. You don’t know me. But seeing humanity free of the Fal’cie, that’s my life’s work. And you’re in no position to act against PSICom overtly. I’m your only choice. Say afterwards that some rebel elements managed to steal those ships of yours.”

“And what will I say when the ‘stolen’ ships are mysteriously returned to me?”

The voice at the other end scoffed. “With what’s coming, soon enough it won’t matter what you say. Trust me, you won’t need to worry about that for long. Besides…” he trailed off. “I’ll need them for a few weeks, I think. The deportees will need some form of shelter.”

Raines frowned uneasily, but nodded. “You’re right, I’ve got no choice. I’ll see it done. Don’t fail.”

“Worry about yourself, general,” the voice - Oerba Huei Hope - said lightly. “Oh, and might I speak with your guest one more time?”

Raines nodded towards Fang. “What is it?” she asked.

“You’re welcome to join us. Just hitch a ride on one of those ships the General is sending.”

Fang hesitated.

“If it’s your focus you’re worried about, don’t be. I know what it is, and I know how to fulfill it.”

Fang narrowed her eyes. “And how would you know?”

“Why don’t you come and see?” They heard him shifting on the other end. “Hm. I think that covers it for now. Thank you for your time, general. Fang, I’ll call again if we manage to track down your companion before the Purge starts.” Then, with an abrupt click, he hung up.

The three of them were silent for a long moment.

“Sir,” Rygdea spoke up, “how are you going to get him those airships?”

Raines sat down and folded his hands together. “I’ll figure something out.” He sighed. “If Sanctum really is planning to turn the Purge into a massacre, we can’t just stand by. Leave me. I have… rather a lot to think about.”

“... Yes sir.”

\---

The atmosphere as they ate was a little uneasy, but companionable enough. Lightning started a stilted conversation about Serah’s plans for school and Snow’s friends and Snow and Serah’s relationship, and realized a little sadly that it was probably the most they’d spoken to each other in years. Lightning was clearing the dishes when her comm buzzed, buried in her Corps jacket still on the floor of the living room.

“I’ve got the dishes well in hand here,” Serah offered quickly. “Go ahead and take the call.”

She nodded and hurried to dig it out and answer.

“It’s me,” Hope said when she picked up. “I’m probably not registered in your contacts.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Lightning agreed. She’d enter in the number after they hung up. It was a relief to be out of the kitchen, free from reflecting on how distant from Serah she had become. It was a relief to hear his voice. “How are things going so far?”

“Sorry,” Hope started, and Lighting frowned in concern. “We haven’t had the chance to decide on a plan yet, and I sort of. Made one on the fly. Without you.” He sounded honestly sorry.

Lightning relaxed. “Old habits die hard, right? You’re just getting old and set in your ways.”

“Ouch!” Hope laughed.

“It’s fine. You know what my plans usually look like.”

“Hit the problem with a sword until it stops being a problem,” Hope said, laughing.

Quietly, she made her way to the bedroom and shut the door. She lowered her voice. “So what’s the plan?”

“Prevent the fighting at Hanging Edge; turn the Purge into an evacuation to Pulse’s surface. I’ve got Raines on board. It seems that Barthandelus hasn’t made him a l’cie yet.”

“That’s good,” Lightning said emphatically. “He’s a great commander and a good man.”

“So Rygdea always used to tell me. I got in contact with Fang, too, since she’s been under Raines' hospitality.”

Lightning’s heart skipped. Fang. Fang was warm and alive and nearby, and Vanille too. “How was she?”

“Agitated. She’s been looking for Vanille.”

“Really? She didn’t really talk about her time with the Cavalry.”

“Yeah, but Rygdea told me stories later, when we were both in the Academy.”

“She’ll be at the Purge for sure; didn’t she used to say how badly she wanted to return to Pulse?”

A pause, as if Hope had shook his head. “It’s too risky. Vanille’s in a bad place right now. She might do something stupid.” He hummed. “Come to think of it, didn’t she meet Serah once?”

“I’ll ask her,” Lightning replied dutifully. She returned to the kitchen, nodding brusquely at Snow. “Serah?”

Serah finished rinsing the last dish and dried her hands. “Yes?”

“Hope is looking for someone on behalf of a friend of ours, and he was wondering if you might know anything.”

She turned around and frowned, curious. “Why me?”

“No reason. Just covering all our bases. We know she’s been in Bodhum, but he has no leads yet.” She flicked the comm to speaker.

“Hello again, Miss Serah,” Hope said. “I’m looking for a girl about your age. She acts cheerful, but she’s the type to cry a lot. She’s got pigtails, and she wears a lot of pink and--”

“And beads and jewelry?” Serah interrupted. “Yes, I did meet a girl like that the other day. But I’m sorry, I have no idea where she is.”

Snow spoke up, voice lighting in recognition. “This girl, she’s got red hair and a lot of skin showing?”

“You’ve seen her?” Hope’s voice was filled with surprise.

“Not me, no. Yuj mentioned seeing a girl like that hanging around NORA cafe’s garden. He said her fashion sense stood out. I couldn’t tell if it was a compliment.”

“Of course,” Lightning exclaimed quietly, sitting down at the table. “That’s just the sort of place she’d end up.”

“Thank you, Snow,” he said seriously. “Light, I’ll give the barricades a quick go-over, then I’ll see if I can’t track her down in NORA’s backyard somewhere.” A pause, then, “Where should we meet up?”

“The cafe would be best. She’s not going to follow you back here, and we’ll need to speak to NORA anyway.”

“Right. Love you, Light.” The connection ended.

Serah frowned again. “Sis. Who is this guy and why does he keep saying those sorts of things? Why haven’t I met him before?”

Lightning looked up at her sister a little uncomfortably. This was an interesting role-reversal…

“Wait,” Snow interrupted, saving Lightning from an answer. “Did he say barricades? What barricades?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went up a day early -- I won't have internet tomorrow. Chapter three is already finished; it'll go up in two weeks. I'm trying to build up a nice buffer so we can have a consistent posting schedule. 
> 
> We're getting off to a slow start here, but we are. Going to go places before this is through. Haha.
> 
> (Warning though, after this the romance basically evaporates for at least the next couple of chapters. jsyk)


	3. The 12th Day - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: 
> 
> Thrown back in time to the beginning of everything, Hope and Lightning are resolved to save as many lives as possible. When Serah and Snow arrive to celebrate Lightning’s birthday, she seeks to mend her relationship with her sister. Meanwhile, Hope seeks the help of the Cavalry to change the Purge from a massacre to a grand escape. As Hope and Lightning discuss their plans, they reveal a bit of what’s to come to Snow and Serah.

“Wait,” Snow interrupted. “Did he say barricades? What barricades?”

“The ones PSICom put up last night,” Lightning said. “They’ve blocked off the trains and the highways, and Hope’s information suggests that won’t be the end of it.”

“But, why?” Serah asked, terrified.

“...” Lightning’s lips tightened. Nothing for it. They’d find out soon, anyway. “There was an incident involving alleged Pulse l’cie at Euride Gorge a few days ago. The whole area was cordoned off for a few days.  PSICom’s been keeping it quiet, but Hope has sources.” Serah stiffened in shock, and Snow’s hands curled into fists.

She continued. “Last night PSICom discovered a Pulse fal’cie in the Vestige.” They both looked surprised at the first fact, but of course they already knew about the Vestige. “You’re not surprised,” she observed.

Serah tensed, and Snow moved to place a hand on her shoulder. He pulled her close for a moment. “Sis, I… the other day, the Vestige was open. I was curious, and I… I went in. And I--” her breath hitched. “I saw the Pulse fal’cie. It… it made me a l’cie.” Serah wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive gesture, waiting for a reaction.

Lightning could remember the chill that had gripped her heart the last time she had heard those words, the incredulous anger that she’d used to drive it away, the regret she’d felt ever since. She felt an echo of that chill now. She closed her eyes against it.  

“Do you know your focus?” Lightning asked.

This was not the reaction Serah had expected. “I-- yes. No. I’m not sure.”

Lightning nodded. “Your best guess?”

Her gaze drifted to settle somewhere on the wall. “It was… I saw some kind of monster, and Cocoon… falling to the ground.” She looked back to her sister. “But I wouldn’t follow through with something like that, I promise! Even if I could--”

“You could,” Lightning interrupted. “The potential power of a l’cie is enormous.”

Snow broke in. “We don’t know that for sure. L’cie are practically legends, aren’t they? There haven’t been any in ages. Hell, since the War of Transgression.”

She smiled humorlessly. “That’s right. No l’cie on Cocoon for hundreds of years. Until a pair of them woke up from their crystal slumber in the Pulse Vestige.”

Serah gasped. “Is that why the door was open?”

She looked at her younger sister wistfully. That open door… that open door was what had gotten Serah into this mess. If only she hadn’t gone into the Vestige, if only the door had stayed closed-- but that veered close to blaming Fang and Vanille for what had happened, and it was in the past now anyway. Serah was a l’cie. She couldn’t change that. “Yes,” she answered. “Most likely.”

“Okay, but what about the barricades?” Snow asked again. “Why is PSICom in charge of it? What is the Security Regiment doing?”

Lightning watched him for a moment, the tenseness in his jaw, the worry in the line of his shoulders. “Let’s go to the cafe,” she said at last. “There’s a lot to go over, and Hope will do a better job explaining it than I can.”

\---

Vanille wasn’t at the barricade by the train station. His mother, however, was. Damn.

“Please,” he could hear her pleading with a masked PSICom agent, “Can’t you spare anyone to look for my son?” Double damn.

“Step away from the barrier, Ma’am,” the grunt said in a warning tone.

She gripped the barricade insistently. “Isn’t it your job to--” The PSICOM grunt moved to heft his gun threateningly, and Hope found his feet moving on their own.

“My apologies,” he told the grunt, taking hold of his mother’s arm and pulling them both a pace back from the barrier. “She didn’t mean anything by it. We aren’t looking for trouble.” She made a noise of protest, and he tightened his grip on her arm - gently - warning her off. “Right?” He asked her.

She scowled, but backed away from the barrier with him and followed his lead back out through the crowd. Once they were a fair distance away, she spoke. “What was that about?”

“Listen,” Hope said, careful not to look at her. “PSICom isn’t like the Guardian Corps, alright? They serve the government’s interests, not ours.”

“Is there a difference?”

“What do you think?” He asked, casting a meaningful look back at the panicking crowd of residents and tourists.

“... Even so,” Nora said. “My son is missing. Do you understand that? My son. I don’t care what the risks are, I have to find him.” She halted, pulling back against his hold on her wrist. “I’m going back. This has nothing to do with you, whoever you are.”

Hope released her and spun around, eyes flashing with hurt. “It has everything to do with me!” Her brows wrinkled with surprise and confusion. “You’re his mother. Do you think he’d ever forgive himself if something happened to you while you were trying to protect him?”

“I don’t care,” Nora insisted, all calm resolve. “Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t care. I need him safe.”

Hope huffed and turned back around, trying to hide his turmoil. He’d never let her go after all, had he? Had never really accepted her loss, no matter how much he told himself otherwise. But he had to. There were more people than just his mother who needed his help right now. His lips thinned. “Stay away from PSICom,” he repeated. “If you’re really determined, track down someone from the Bodhum Security Regiment. They’ve been ordered to stand down from their regular duties, so they’ll have plenty of time to help.” He started walking. Keep his mind on the present: he had to find Vanille.

He heard the clack of heeled sandals behind him. “And what about you?”

Hope frowned. “What do you mean? And are you following me?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “That outfit of yours has a military look about it, but it definitely doesn’t belong to any of Sanctum’s arms.”

“I’m just a scientist, sorry to disappoint.”

“And the gun at your waist?”

“It’s always best to be prepared for monster attacks on research expeditions.” He said firmly. Which was true. Cocoon was no Pulse, but the people who worked in its wilderness areas still had to be as ready to defend themselves as any soldier.

He turned his attention back to his search. Bodhum had a swath of forest  that curled between the town and the beach for a mile or two, a sort of arboretum filled with ‘safe’ wildlife and with walking paths. Its tip, further downtown, was close to NORA’s cafe, and they’d planted their vegetable garden in a clearing a little way in. Hope’s knowledge of the area was vague -- a half-remembered conversation from one of the few social events he’d attended in New Bodhum before Snow and Serah had disappeared -- it might have been better to have Lightning do the searching. But it was an area two miles long and only about a quarter mile wide at the most, so hopefully it wouldn’t matter. He reached the far end three blocks from the train station and headed briskly into the forest.

Nora sped her pace to keep up. “So, ‘just a scientist,’ in that case, where are you going in such a hurry?”

“... I’m looking for someone.” Was she really going to keep following him? How long until he let something slip? Oh, Light was never going to let him hear the end of it. “A missing girl. On behalf of her family, who has the common sense to stay safe and let me do the searching.” He kept his eyes peeled for signs of Vanille; some kind of camp, or trails other than the planned strolls the locals kept to. The foliage was thick enough to obscure vision, but nowhere near as thick as some of the places he’d explored on Pulse over the years. He’d manage. He left the path to tromp off through the shrubbery.

Nora looked down at her open-toed shoes and hesitated. She grimaced and stepped off the path after him. “Alright,” she said. “Then I’ll ask you to help find my son too.”

Of course she would. His gut roiled. As far as he knew, the teenage son she was looking for was gone now. Permanently, unless the paradox of his presence here was erased. Somehow he doubted an adult stranger would be a comforting replacement. Out loud, he said, “Where did you see him last?”

“We were at the fireworks together. I went to get us snacks and drinks, and when I came back he’d disappeared in the crowd.”

“You’re going to need something more specific than that,” Hope said. “The whole town turned out for the fireworks.” He sighed. “Do you know of anyplace in town he’d go, if he was lost or upset?”

“He should have been able to get to the hotel or the train station from anywhere in town,” Nora insisted. “I don’t know where else he’d go.”

“He wouldn’t run off on his own for some reason?” Of course he wouldn’t, Hope knew that much  about himself.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Nora’s demeanor had been growing steadily more outwardly worried. Now there was a deep frown set in her face. If he remembered his mother as well as he thought, this relatively stoic expression meant she was actually on the edge of tears.

Damn. How much could he say? “Look… If he stays missing… he’ll probably be safer than the rest of the town.”

Her posture grew a sharp edge, and she shot him a look. “And what does that mean?”

Double damn again. He paused his steps, searching for some kind of response. And then he heard it.

“Hey, I asked what you mean by that.”

Hope hushed her insistently. There, just a little further ahead and to the… left? He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded almost like… like sobbing and hitched breaths. Vanille. It had to be. He rushed forward, pushing through a particularly thick thatch of shrubbery. And there she was, sitting in the middle of NORA’s neat rows of vegetables, her knees hugged to her chest.

He stepped forward into the clearing, feet crunching on the undergrowth. Vanille shot up at the sound and sprawled backwards. “S-stay back!” she yelled shakily. He stopped abruptly.

“Oerba Dia Vanille,” he said, radiating relief, “I am so glad to see you.”

She got her feet back under her just as Nora followed him into the clearing. “Who’re you?” She asked, guardedly.

“Fang sent me.” Vanille relaxed visibly, as if those words had been a magic spell.

She gathered herself up. “Is she safe?” She asked urgently. “Where is she now?”

“She’s safe,” Hope reassured her. “She can’t come back to Bodhum right now. But you’ll see her soon.”

There were tear tracks on her face. Behind him, Nora pulled out a handkerchief. “Here,” she said, offering it to Vanille.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Part one accomplished, thought Hope. He turned to Nora. “You’re planning on following me until you get some sort of lead, aren’t you?”

Expression neutral but determined, she replied. “I’m following you until you explain what you meant when you said my son is safer if he’s lost.”

Hope knew his mother. If she hadn’t already recognized his face, then she wouldn’t -- and who would think anything of a resemblance between a fourteen-year-old son and a twenty-seven-year-old stranger? But still, her gut had told her that he knew something about her son’s disappearance. And Nora Estheim followed her gut ruthlessly. “Right.” He sighed. “Right. Come on, then. I’ve got a meeting to catch, and we might as well eat, too.”

\---

The strange man who knew Fang walked ahead of them. Her face was a mess of tears, and she was intensely glad of the handkerchief that woman had loaned her. When Vanille handed it back, the woman spoke. “It was Vanille, right?” She nodded. “My name is Nora. I wish we’d met under better circumstances.” The woman, Nora, smiled gently, and it prompted Vanille to reciprocate.

Oh, that felt good. She’d been alone, and so she hadn’t smiled, not even a fake smile, in days. It was so hard to be brave after Fang had left her at Euride. It was hard to be brave, and it was hard to smile without Fang to smile for, and without any smiles she had felt herself slowly sinking into a mire of despair she couldn’t escape. She had to smile, she decided. Had to, or she couldn’t keep going.

She started by trying out her favorite bright grin. “It’s nice to meet you, Nora!” She bobbed in a parody of a curtsey. “I’m much better now, don’t you worry about me!”

Nora frowned a bit, but nodded acceptance. She paused a moment. “Come to think of it, would you happen to know the name of your rescuer there? We never actually exchanged names.”

Vanille brought a finger to her lips and tilted her head to the side. “He didn’t say, did he? I’ve never met him before... but if he says Fang sent him, then she definitely did.” It was the only way he could know about her and Fang, she thought, unless Fang was in trouble. And that was unthinkable.

“This Fang, she’s your family?”

“Yeah. The only family I’ve got. She’s always taking care of me, even when…” she trailed off. “Nevermind.” She sniffed the air as they broke out of the woods and approached a cafe on the beach. “Ooh, that smells great!”

“I’ve been here,” Nora supplied. “I was amused because the cafe shared my name, and the food looked great, but then my son went missing and I…” She smiled ruefully. “I didn’t actually eat anything. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. I suppose I should, before I worry myself sick.”

As they approached the restaurant, they heard a din of voices. This morning, many of the people who weren’t at one of the barricades had sensed the uneasy atmosphere and stayed at home, but NORA Cafe seemed unaffected by the unofficial curfew. The man ahead of them slowly dropped his pace until he was next to them both. “Look at me, it’s like I’m headed for my execution,” they heard him mutter under his breath. Nora shot Vanille a confused look. Vanille shrugged.

They stopped outside as a unit, and then the man seemed to steel himself and strode inside, the line of his shoulders deliberately relaxed. Vanille and Nora followed him. The noise, it turned out, was not because NORA Cafe still had customers. Rather, all the noise came from a half dozen people seated at one of the cafe tables or standing at the bar.

An exception stood quietly a few feet away from the rest, a tall woman with rose-colored hair. She was wearing a dark, flowy sundress with a large weapon hanging from her hips, which was a bit of an odd combination. Still, Vanille thought she was very pretty. Their guide must have thought the same; he turned to her as if magnetized. “Light! Part one accomplished,” he told her, striding forward and taking her hand, lacing their fingers together.

The woman’s eyes drifted from her hand linked with his to the tagalongs he’d brought with him. Vanille thought she saw her smile a bit when she looked at her, but maybe not. Then the rose-haired woman spotted Nora. Her eyes widened and she tugged on the man’s hand. “No distractions at all?” She asked wryly, and this time Vanille could definitely see the hint of a smile on her lips.

“Would you believe me if I said it really was a coincidence?”

The woman paused, seeming to consider the question. “Coincidence or not,” she said finally, “It makes things more complicated for you. Not that I’m in any position to talk.” And what did that mean, ‘more complicated’? And why did this woman, ‘Light’, almost seem like she recognized them?

The huge blond man slapped the counter twice and stood up. “Are we all here now, sis?” He asked the rose-haired woman.

She nodded.

“Great, then you and your boyfriend can finally explain what we’re doing here.” So the other people in the cafe were as uninformed as Vanille. That was… reassuring. One or two people knowing something she didn’t and being all mysterious about it was nowhere near as bad as more than a half dozen.

“He’s not--” she stopped, rueful, and looked down at her hand. It was still linked with their guide’s. “You are, aren’t you?”

He smiled.

She fixed him with a look that was half aloof and half embarrassed, and then her features took on a distinctly vengeful cast. “I’m Lightning Farron, Serah’s older sister. Most of you have probably heard of me from her or Snow.” She said. Then, “This is Hope.” Vanille saw Nora stiffen, though no-one else seemed to notice. Lightning smirked and shot him another look. “And he’s going to explain everything.”

Hope cringed. “Right, put this all on me.” He cleared his throat. “A round of introductions might be in order.” The other people in the room introduced themselves. Aside from Hope and Nora, it seemed that no-one in the room was much older than Vanille was -- Maqui was younger, and Yuj and Serah might have been, too. Serah recognized her and nodded, and Vanille felt her smile falter. She forced it back.

“Nice to meet you all!” She replied. “I’m Vanille, and this is Nora.”

“Really?” That was Lebreau, the dark-haired woman at the bar. “Hey, we’re called NORA too!”

“No Obligations, Rules, or Authority,” the two younger boys shot back in a sing-song voice.

Lebreau waved them off. “Yeah, so what do you think? Meeting like this? Obviously it’s destiny.”

Nora was still smiling, but her eyes and lips were tight. It seemed to Vanille she felt a little displeasure having her name associated with that mantra. “You’re some sort of group, then?”

The big blonde sitting at one of the tables shrugged good-naturedly. “We’re just a pack of strays. Grew up together, now we run this cafe.” He smiled proudly. “And we do some monster hunting. Keep the local Guardian Corps from getting in over their heads.”

Lightning rolled her eyes and cut in. “Some of them do appreciate the help, I’ll grant you that. But we’re soldiers. We know what we can handle.” She exchanged another glance with her companion, Hope, and continued. “Can you say the same?” She asked seriously. “Yuj? Maqui?” The boys in question shifted uncomfortably. She looked at Gadot, then Lebreau, then back to Snow again. “You’re good. Surprisingly good. But if you’re not careful you’re going to get hurt. You’re going to get someone else hurt.” Hope laid a hand on her arm. She closed her eyes and took a step back. “Just… keep it in mind,” she finished.

Snow shifted forward and leaned on the table. “... What’s brought this on, Sis?” he asked.

Hope stepped forward before she could reply, calling the room’s attention. “About that, I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here,” he began. “Allow me to explain -- there’s a series of events you need to know about.” Nora and Vanille found chairs, and the rest of the members of NORA settled into stillness. Lightning stayed behind him, standing like a silent guard. “First: one week ago, there was an incident at the Euride Gorge power plant. An accident of some kind.” Vanille winced. “PSICom had the whole place under quarantine for a while; no one in, no one out. Rumor is there were Pulse l’cie involved.” He shifted and put a hand on his hip. “That rumor is completely correct. Second, Serah here discovered the front door of the Vestige has recently mysteriously opened. Furthermore, it has a Pulse fal’cie inside, and she has been marked with its brand.”

The other members of NORA reeled in shock. “Serah,” Lebreau asked, “Is that true?”

Serah smiled weakly. Snow settled a hand on her shoulder and addressed them. “She’s not our enemy. Understood?”

“No, of course!” Lebreau replied, and the others nodded hurriedly.

So they didn’t hate Serah for being a Pulse l’cie, but... that didn’t mean they wouldn’t hate Vanille. After all, it looked like Serah was their friend. And Vanille was actually from Pulse. It was different. Still, maybe… Vanille turned to gauge Nora’s reaction, but all the woman’s attention was on Hope. She’d barely even noticed the disturbance.

“Third,” Hope continued after the moment was over, “PSICom has been searching for the Pulse l’cie from Euride. That search led them to Bodhum, and last night a bunch of PSICom soldiers entered the Vestige and discovered the fal’cie inside.”  He dropped his hands, then spread them at his sides. “We come to the point. The Sanctum is about to declare all of Bodhum potentially corrupted by the Vestige’s influence. With PSICom as its arm, later today Sanctum will announce a Purge -- a forced deportation to Pulse for everyone currently behind Bodhum’s quarantine.” He huffed. “Except for active-duty soldiers like Light here.” He looked around the room and found NORA’s radio. “They’ll be announcing it soon, if you turn that on. Over the loudspeakers at the trainstation and the shopping district, too.”

Gadot jumped out of his seat, words bursting out of him. “Do they think we’ll just roll over and take that?”

“They don’t. But PSICom hopes that by providing amnesty to Bodhum’s soldiers, they can convince them, at least, to stand aside and let it happen. And if -- when -- anyone does resist…” His mouth twisted.

Lightning spoke up. “They really do plan to throw the Vestige back down to Pulse,” she said. “It’s the only thing they can do. They couldn’t destroy it if they tried. But PSICom and the Sanctum have no intention of going through with the deportation. We’ll be brought to the Hanging Edge, and then gunned down by PSICom’s forces. In self-defense, of course.”

Completely incredulous, Gadot sat back down. Looking around the room, Vanille could see other signs of shock and worry; Yuj was biting his lip, Lebreau had her arms crossed tightly, Maqui was leaned over the table with both hands in his hair… And Snow and Serah were leaning into one another, Snow’s hand on her shoulder a few inches up from her wrapped l’cie brand. For her part, Nora’s frown was growing ever deeper.

Hope and Lightning, on the other hand, seemed strangely unconcerned. Lightning’s posture was tense, but calm, and when Hope spoke again his voice was relaxed and matter-of-fact. “The rest of Cocoon wouldn’t hear from us again, they’d have a pretty lie to explain why, and Sanctum could be satisfied that the threat of Pulse sabotage was dealt with. Decisively.” Hope finished. “No loose ends. And we would still be loose ends, alive on Pulse.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” That was Maqui, looking up from the table with furrowed brows.

“We’re going to fight back,” Lightning answered quietly.

Snow leaned back. “We’re stopping the Purge?”

“No,” Lightning said. “We’re not stopping it. We’re taking control of it. We’re going to Pulse.”

Another wave of surprise swept the room, and for Vanille a wave of relief and hope so thick she could taste it in the back of her throat.

Nora was still studying Hope carefully. “I see,” she said, and everyone turned to her. “You’re banking on the higher-ups in PSICom not telling their people we’re all supposed to die.”

“That’s right. Their official orders are to use lethal force if we resist… and only if we resist. PSICom’s commander, Jihl Nabaat, is certain that someone will -- and once the fighting breaks out, well, it’s unfortunate, but they have to stamp out the resistance…”

“And at the end of it there’ll be none of us left.”

“Right,” Hope confirmed. “But that’s not going to happen. PSICom’s not prepared to carry out an actual deportation, but we will be. I’ve been in contact with General Cid Raines, of the Cavalry. He’s got troop carrier ships under his command, and he’ll lend them to us. We get everyone from the trains to those ships without incident, and we’re free and clear. We just need to keep the PSICom forces overseeing the operation from realizing there’s anything amiss.”

“You want us to let them send us to hell?” Yuj asked indignantly.

“Not at all.” Hope cocked his head. “Who told us that Pulse is hell?”

“Sanctum did,” Nora answered. “The same people planning our mass murder.” She nodded. “So you’re saying we have absolutely no reason to trust what they’ve told us.”

“Yes.” Hope smiled at her, then cleared his throat. “I’m not saying it won’t be hard, but we can live there.” He nodded at the members of NORA. “You’ve proven already that you can survive without Cocoon’s fal’cie. I saw your garden earlier. It’s very nice.” Lebreau and Yuj returned the nod, beginning to understand his point.

“It’s a much better shot at survival than going up against PSICom directly,” Lightning said. “It’s our only real option, if we want to save lives instead of just go out in a blaze of glory.”

“Besides, it’s by no means permanent,” Hope continued quietly. “Serah and… well, Serah has a focus. And if she doesn’t intend to carry it out, then the people who love her certainly do.” Hope sent an almost imperceptible nod to Vanille. Serah, meanwhile, turned back to Lightning, who was studiously avoiding her eyes.

“Sis,” she asked with a small voice, “Is that true?”

Lightning’s lips thinned. “Here’s the truth,” she said. “Cocoon is ruled by fal’cie, not by humans. The Primarch is just a puppet. And if Cocoon’s fal’cie have no problem killing humans indiscriminately, then I for one want all of them dead.” She glanced back at Serah, resolute. “So whatever I choose to do, whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

A long silence. In the distance, they heard the loudspeakers come to life and relay an indistinct message. Yuj stood and turned on the radio, and they listened silently as a Sanctum representative announced and explained the Purge exactly as Hope said they would. As the message went on, Vanille heard the sound of human panic rising in the distance. The message finished, then started from the beginning again. Yuj turned the radio back off.

“Hm.” Snow laid his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “So what do you want us to do?”

“Make sure all the deportees get to the Cavalry airships tomorrow. Fight PSICom to do it if you have to. Keep people alive.”

“And what’ll you and Sis be doing?”

Hope smiled grimly and answered. “Improvising. No plan survives contact with the enemy, and it’s what Light does best anyway.”

Snow frowned. “And what about us? It’ll be seriously hard, protecting several thousand people like that. Yuj and Maqui aren’t really fighters yet,” Yuj looked to interrupt, and Snow held up a hand. “Sure, they’re fine with monsters, but soldiers? No way. So it’d be just the three of us against all of PSICom. To be honest, I don’t think we can do it.”

“... the security regiment.”

Lightning turned to Nora in surprise. “What?”

Nora straightened in her chair. “The Bodhum Security Regiment. You said PSICom doesn’t want them involved. And you don’t have enough people. So get them involved.”

Lightning leaned against a table, a considering look on her face.

“Light, no way. If we go through the Regiment it’ll get back to PSICom. If that happens, we’re done for.”

She pursed her lips. “No, I don’t think it will.”

“Light--”

“You trusted the Cavalry,” she reminded him. “You’re certain enough of Rygdea and Raines’ character to let this whole operation ride on their cooperation.” More names Vanille didn’t recognize. Even though she expected it, it was frustrating.

“Yes,” Hope said, confused.

“You know Rygdea better than I do. I’m trusting in your judgement.” She stepped forward and turned towards the door. “I know Lieutenant Amodar. It’s your turn to trust me. Whatever happens, Lieutenant Amodar definitely won’t betray us to PSICom.”

Hope’s shoulders sagged a little, chastened. “No, you’re right. I do trust you.”

Lightning smiled slightly. “Then I’ll report in right now. Since the Purge was just announced, I have a good reason for interrupting my time off.”

“What will you do?”

“...” Lightning considered the question, then let out an amused huff.

“Light?”

“Like you said,” Lightning answered, “I’ll do what I do best: I’ll improvise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter isn't written yet, so it may or may not go up on schedule. Probably it will, but I've got a lot on my plate right now, so... if it doesn't, be assured it's not because I've lost interest or anything.


	4. The 12th Day - III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: 
> 
> To change the future, Hope and Lightning resolve first to change the Purge. Cid Raines will send them the means to bring the deportees to to Pulse’s surface, but they have to deliver them safely to Raines’ airships first. Lightning calls NORA together to ask for their help, and Hope tracks down Vanille at Fang’s request. 
> 
> Hope’s mother Nora is an unexpected tag-along, but even through her worry over her missing son she’s a sharp and resourceful woman. If NORA isn’t enough to keep PSICom at bay, she says, why not look to the members of the Bodhum Security Regiment whose families are being Purged? Lightning agrees and leaves to see her commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Amodar.

And so Lightning was off. The Bodhum GC base was a little ways inland of the train station, almost completely opposite the location of NORA's cafe. But Bodhum wasn't all that big to begin with, and Lightning's pace quickly ate the distance.

She realized as she approached the gate and saw it free of its usual guards that Lieutenant Colonel Amodar might not even be on the base, but her fears were groundless. He was pacing back and forth in the lobby of the base's main building. She stopped and stood at attention. “Sir.”

His shoulders drooped in relief. “Sergeant Farron. At ease.” She relaxed her stance. “I’m guessing you’re here about that-- that sick joke they just played over the radios.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stopped his pacing and leaned against the front desk. “Sanctum’s given me a set of instructions to relay to all of you.”

Lightning nodded, unsurprised. She remembered those orders. Last time, he’d sent it as a text memo over their comms. ‘GC-BSR personnel are exempt from the Purge. Stand down from your regular duties and stay on the Bodhum GC base. Await further instruction.’ Some of the young people who came from outside of Bodhum might have been happy to follow those orders, but most everyone with family in town -- Amodar included -- had chosen to stay with them instead, and be Purged. It was the reason her own decision to board the train had gone unexamined, before.

“What are you going to do, sir?”

He sighed deeply. “Farron, I don’t know _what_ to do. This is wrong. It’s cowardly. Quarantine the city, by all means. I’m sure the l’cie can’t stay hidden for long, if they’re really as bad news as people say. But throwing thousands of people off Cocoon entirely? It’s _insane_.”

Lightning braced herself. “It’s worse than that, sir.” She took a short breath. “I have… a friend with access to certain information. It’s all off-books, but the PSICom officer in charge of the Purge has been ordered to make sure no one makes it as far as Pulse.”

Amodar stilled. “I told you not to look into it, Farron.”

“Yes, sir. I know.”

His eyes slid shut. “They want to kill us? The Primarch wants to kill us?” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Are you sure about this, sergeant?”

Lightning straightened. “Yes, sir.”

“Can I meet this source of yours?”

“That depends, sir.”

He shot her a questioning look.

“On what you plan to do next.”

Amodar paused, then nodded. “I was right, you know.”

“Sir?”

“You _will_ make a good officer. So, let’s get you some practice.” He took out his comm and entered a short message, then sent it out.

Lightning took out her comm. “Urgent: All personnel, report to the base for briefing on the Purge,” she read. “Sir?”

“How do you feel about going against orders, Farron?”

“To be honest, sir? Better every minute.”

He nodded. “Good. Report to the ready room and follow my lead.”

\---

It took Hope far longer than he’d have liked to escape from NORA’s impromptu strategy session. God, it was strange to be in there. Snow and Serah both seemed so young -- and he’d spent time with the rest of NORA very close before his departure through the time capsule. Compared to the people they’d grown into later, they were practically babies.

Vanille followed him out, casting a guilty glance at Serah before dodging out the door. Nora watched them leave, but to Hope’s relief she stayed seated. Being around her was terrifying; a constant reminder that he had lost her once, and now might yet lose her again. That she believed her son was missing made it worse, that it was his fault made her uncharacteristically somber expression nearly intolerable. Unbidden, his feet led him towards the pier.

Her boots scuffing in the sand, Vanille came up beside him. “Hope?” she asked, “how exactly do you know Fang?”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Well,” he said after a moment, “We haven’t actually met. I spoke to her through this,” he held up his Academy comm. “She’s with the Cavalry right now, a branch of Sanctum’s military. Their leader, Cid Raines, is sympathetic to your cause.”

Vanille’s hands clenched together. “... He shouldn’t be.”

“No, he knows what he’s doing. A l’cie Focus is something very like a prophecy,” he told her. “And prophecies very rarely mean what you might expect.”

“What would you know about my focus?” She demanded, eyes wide with frustration. “You weren’t there, you didn’t _see--_ ” she choked back her words, turning abruptly and sitting down with her legs hanging off the side of the pier.

Slowly, he sat down beside her. “No, I wasn’t there. I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “It must have been awful.”

“How do you know?” Vanille asked, confused and distraught.

Hope paused, considering his options. Maybe… a part of the truth could help. “Back then, you prayed to the goddess for help. And she always gives it, when she can.” He flashed her a small smile. “Lightning and I are here to protect you, Vanille. _And_ to protect Cocoon. Can you trust me?”

Vanille’s expression was troubled. Slowly, she nodded. “I’ll try.”

This smile was a bit larger. “That’s all I can ask. Oh,” he pulled out his comm again. “Would you like to talk to Fang? I think I can get in touch for you.”

Her whole bearing seemed to brighten. “Could you? Please, yes!”

He called Rygdea’s comm.

“You again?” Rygdea asked when he picked up.

“Me again,” Hope confirmed, grinning at Vanille and getting a tremulous smile in return. “Could you give the comm to Fang? I’ve got someone here who’d really like to speak with her.”

“Oh, no problem,” said Rygdea, voice disgruntled. “I’m only, what, halfway across the ship? No problem at all.”

Hope chuckled. “Sorry to trouble you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a minute.”

Vanille stared down at her lap as they waited, tense with anticipation. Hope watched her kick her legs for a few moments, then handed her the comm. “Here. I’ll be back on the beach if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Vanille said emphatically, cradling the comm in her hands.

Hope nodded and walked the length of the pier back to the shore. “Don’t thank me,” he said under his breath, staring at the water lapping the sand just short of his boots. “This is far from over.”

He looked back up at Vanille, sitting on the end of the pier. He could see the moment Fang must have started speaking; immediately, the lines of Vanille’s back and shoulders seemed to loosen up, straighten out. He watched as Vanille spoke softly, paused, then let out a musical little laugh. He wondered what they were talking about. He wondered if this would slow the advancement of Vanille’s brand. He hoped so.

Vanille turned around as if noticing his continued attention. She waved. He returned the gesture with a smile he hoped was convincing, then sighed. That was enough brooding. He needed to get back to NORA before they got restless.

When he got back to the cafe, there was someone missing. “Where’s--” Where’s my mother, he managed to bite back. “Where’s Mrs. Estheim, the woman who came in with me?”

Maqui lifted his head up off the table. “Huh? Thought she was gonna go talk to you?”

“It’s what she said before she left,” Yuj added. “Said ‘I need to find Hope’, then wandered off without a by-your-leave.”

Hope’s stomach sank. He’d completely missed her. What if she was heading back to the barricade at the train station? He had to go after her, he had to-- he sank into a chair. “Maybe this is for the best,” he said quietly. “Okay. Do you all understand the plan so far?” His mother would have to take care of herself. He needed to focus. Lightning was depending on him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yyyyikes it's been a long time. I'm still here, the story is alive I promise. 
> 
> TBH this chapter is about a third the size I'd prefer, but I hit a decent stopping point and thought to myself, "do I really want to risk going literally two years without updating this?" The answer is no, I don't. So, _only_ 22 months after the last update, here you go. 
> 
> I am going to try _so hard_ to update one to two times a month going forward. I did it with the first three chapters, so I know it's theoretically possible. Okay. Hold tight folks, we'll get to the the real action eventually. Soon. I hope.


	5. The 12th Day - IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far:
> 
> At Nora's suggestion, Lightning goes to her commanding officer Colonel Amodar. She hopes to incite him and the rest of the BSR into mutiny to help protect the Purge deportees. Meanwhile, Hope arranges for Vanille to speak to Fang. While he's busy, Nora leaves to continue looking for her son. What they're doing is important, but she has her own priority: family comes first.

Preparing to start a mutiny, Lightning thought, ought to have made her more nervous. She was calm, though, except for the quiet rush of scenarios and contingencies in the back of her mind. The forty minutes it took to assemble everyone passed quickly.

The last soldiers to arrive were the two Lance Corporals Lorens. Mirella “Ella” Lorens was compact, with a mischievous face; her husband Ryk was gangly and well-groomed. They’d been attached at the hip since their school days. They married right after graduation, and they had joined the Corps at the same time.

“Sorry,” Ella said brightly as she swung open the ready room door. “Ryk had a hairstyle emergency and wouldn’t leave the bathroom.” The excuse was met with groans and glares. Behind her, Ryk shrugged and smiled.

“Let it be, guys,” said Captain Aubigny -- Baxter, to people he liked. He brushed a lock of dark hair out of his face. “We’re all here now. Sit down, you two.” He turned to Amodar. “So what _is_ all this, Boss? What’s happening?”

“You’ve heard it already, Aubigny.” Amodar’s voice lacked his usual quiet humor. He started explaining the official story more thoroughly, and Lightning tuned him out, examining her comrades instead. Ryk and Ella would be in for sure, she thought. Falcon, too, and Privates Bellinger and Kendric. They all had family in Bodhum.

The others she was less certain about. It had been so long; she could remember the facts about her comrades, but the finer points of their personalities were another story. As Amodar brought up the Purge exemption for active members of the Guardian Corps, relieved expressions bloomed on several faces. That wasn’t promising. The BSR wasn’t even two-dozen people strong, and they’d need every soldier they could get.

“Of course I’m staying,” Sergeant Northbridge broke in. Amodar frowned at the interruption, but she continued. “I’m not getting sent to Pulse over this podunk town.” Other out-of-towners began nodding in agreement, and she became the focus of several venomous glares.

“Spoken like a true coward,” growled Torreno.

“Hate me if you want,” Northbridge retorted, nose in the air. “I have a life here. I want to go to the university in Eden, become a Cavalry officer. I can’t do that if I’m rolling in the mud on Pulse.”

“My fiancee is in Midian, I can’t leave her.” Private Merle said quietly.

“This whole situation is awful,” added Corporal Verrill apologetically, “But I’m gonna be an aunt soon. I just…” She shook her head.

A brooding air descended on the room, replacing the angry tension between Torreno and Northbridge.

Colonel Amodar cleared his throat. “So the three of you will be taking the exemption. Anyone else?” Slowly, a few more hands raised. Amodar waited a moment more, then spoke. “The rest of us will need a more thorough debriefing, but for you all--” He beckoned them to the table at the front of the room. “PSICom has requested you turn in your comms and your weapons, and remain on base until the Purge is over.”

At Northbridge’s indignant frown, he elaborated. “It’s assurance of your intentions not to interfere in PSICom jurisdiction, that’s all.” She nodded sharply, pulling out her manadrives and sidearm and setting them down on the table. The others followed suit with their own weapons and comms. They stepped back and stood at ease.

Amodar examined the pile on the table and nodded. “Go to your bunks for now. I’ll be by in a bit to talk.” He eyed Private Merle’s shaking hands. “Private,” He said softly, “I understand. Really. Dismissed.”

The door closed behind them, and then there were thirteen soldiers left, including the Colonel and herself.

“So this is it,” Diniz spoke into the silence, a sullen expression on his boyish face. “We’re going to Pulse, all of us.” He let out a short, hollow laugh. “Guess I’m missing my kid sister’s birthday next month.”

Irisa laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “So what do we do, Colonel?” She asked. “Are-” she gritted her teeth. “Are you going to take our weapons, too?”

Amodar made eye contact with Lightning, then glanced towards the door. She stood and walked over, cracking it open to confirm the hallway was empty. She nodded, setting herself in front of the door with the hand at her side ready to take hold of her weapon.

Her stance did not go unnoticed by the officers. Sergeant Torreno’s posture was carefully casual. Baxter looked between Lightning and the Colonel, eyes narrowed almost to slits. Sarge was as inscrutable as always. This was the most dangerous part. If anyone still in the room meant to hold loyal to Sanctum, they would know now that something was very wrong.

Baxter shifted. “Should we be worried, Boss?”

Amodar took one more moment to brace himself, and then he finally spoke. “It looks like Farron and I are starting a mutiny. Who else is in?”

“Oh!” Ella exclaimed, “Thank goodness! Ryk and I have been working with our neighbors all morning to figure out an escape plan!”

“Is that what they call a hairstyle emergency these days?” Baxter ribbed wryly.

Ryk grinned.

Irisa spoke with palpable relief. “I should have known you wouldn’t let us all be sent to Pulse, Colonel. What’s the plan?”

“Yeah, Boss,” Torreno echoed. “What’s the plan? PSICom’s got us outnumbered more’n a hundred to one.” She tossed her dark braid over her shoulder. “Can’t say as I like those odds much.”

“More like _five_ hundred to one, Mal.” Baxter retorted. “PSICom has more soldiers to spare than Bodhum has citizens.”

“So what?” Private Kendric leapt out of his chair. “We’re better than them, we can take ‘em!” Private Bellinger nodded vehement agreement. Lightning hid a frown. How had she forgotten how young those two were? They were as green as NORA.

Falcon clearly agreed with her. She pulled Kendric back into his seat and hushed him. “It doesn’t matter how good we are, Leo.” she scolded. “Against numbers like that, it’d be stupid to stand our ground.”

“And we’re not going to, Lieutenant Tallus.” Amodar cut in before anyone could start talking over each other.

Ray bit his freckled lip. “So we’re escaping?” He ventured.

Amodar turned to Lightning, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Oh no, he wanted _her_ to explain. Was this revenge, somehow, for putting Hope on the spot earlier at the cafe?

She tried to gesture a refusal, but the others were already turning towards her. She grunted mentally. “We need to go to Pulse. Quiet,” she spoke over Kendric’s attempt at protest. “Sanctum wants us gone. They want us _dead_. We can’t run anywhere on Cocoon, they’ll find us and they’ll gun us down.”

Kendric opened his mouth again, and Lightning cut him off. “Yes, we could fight back. But the civilians with us would be killed. Maybe not right away, but eventually.” Baxter, Falcon, and Torreno were listening intently.

Lightning paused and cleared her throat. “If we play along with the charade they’re putting on of deporting us, we have a chance of getting past them. And if we make it to Pulse, we’ll have time before they follow us. And when they do, we’ll be able to fight back.”

“But Sergeant Farron,” Bellinger protested, “Pulse is a death sentence too!”

Torreno snorted. “I bet it suits those Sanctum pigs to have us think that. This is the last straw for me,” she cracked her knuckles. “I’ll take Pulse any day over sharing a planet with the shitwads sittin’ pretty up in Eden, tellin’ the rest of us how to live.”

A few uncertain murmured agreements, and Amodar spoke up again. “We’re the Bodhum Guardian Corps,” he said forcefully. “We can take whatever PSICom throws at us, and we can take Pulse, too.”

“We don’t have much time to plan,” Baxter observed.

The Colonel nodded. “Sarge, with me. I promised our erstwhile comrades I’d talk to them; might as well do it on their way to lockup.” He smiled grimly. “Farron, you take over the briefing.”

“Sir.” She supposed that made sense, since she was the one who knew the most about what was happening. She didn’t feel ready, though. She’d done more talking in the last fifteen hours than she had in all her time in Valhalla.

“And when I get back,” He quirked an eyebrow, “I think we ought to hear more about what the Lance Corporals Lorens have been up to.”  He left the room, Sarge behind him like a tall shadow.

Lightning moved to stand in front of the table. She cast a glance at the pile of weapons. “Does anyone have a spare AMP Pocket?”

“Here.” Baxter tossed one over, and Lightning took a moment to put the mess away inside it. “So Lightning, I can’t say I’ve ever seen you dressed so casually before.”

Lightning blinked. What did he-? She remembered the airy sundress she was wearing.

“Oooh,” Ella jumped in. “What’s the occasion, Lightning?”

“I-” A remembered flash of her uniform pieces scattered across the floor. She felt a flush coming on. “It’s my birthday today. I wanted to dress up for my sister.” It was only a small lie, but Lightning could tell it was unconvincing. “It’s not like I’m the only one out of uniform.”

It was true. Half of them had been meant to have the day off because of the fireworks the previous night, and none of them had bothered changing. Ryk and Ella looked like a pair of tourists, Bellinger had a sweater thrown hastily over her beach clothes, and Diniz’s outfit looked suspiciously like pyjamas. Falcon had thrown on her uniform jacket and hat, but the capris underneath were one hundred-percent housewife.

They all had their weapons, though. That was the BSR, she thought fondly. Ready for anything, and Lindzei help whatever got in their way. She’d been so blinded by her worry and anger over Serah that she’d lost sight of that, the last time through. She wouldn’t have remembered this time, either, if it weren’t for Nora Estheim.

She looked over her comrades fondly, then gathered herself, leaning back against the table. “I’ll start from the beginning. A week ago the Pulse Vestige on the edge of town came unsealed, and last night a Pulse Fal’cie was discovered by the PSICom platoon sent in to investigate...”

\---

Vanille spent almost an hour catching up on everything that had happened since they’d been separated. She wanted every detail; how Fang had gotten out of Euride, who she was with now, what she’d been doing, everything. It seemed Fang felt the same way, and had wrung out the whole long story of the past couple days.

When they got to the fireworks, Vanille had to quash the childish voice that wanted to stomp and yell over how _close_ they’d been and still barely missed each other. But it didn’t matter. They’d be reunited soon.

She looked out over the water. “This town is pretty. It reminds me of Oerba, a little.”

Through the comm, Fang hummed noncommittally. “Can’t see how they can live somewhere with such shoddy game. Remember that bird we caught before? I’ve seen cie’th with better meat on them.”

Vanille pulled a face. “Fang, that’s awful!” She considered the idea for a moment, and regretted it immediately. “It’s just-- It’s-- Euuugh!”

Fang’s response was a husky laugh that warmed Vanille to her toes. She tilted her head towards the comm, eyes drifting closed. “Fang, we can go home tomorrow. I’m so afraid it isn’t real.”

A stretch of silence, with no sound coming through but Fang’s breathing. Then, “And what if it is real? What if everything works out and you get to Pulse? What then?”

Vanille frowned. “What do you mean? Then we’d be together, and we could go back to Oerba, and--”

“What about your focus?”

Vanille clenched her fingers around the comm. “What _about_ my focus?”

“You can’t complete it from Pulse,” Fang protested, “And then what’ll happen to you? You’ll be cie’th. What good does that do?” By the last question, her voice was raised to nearly a shout.

Vanille tossed her head angrily. “I don’t care! I hate my focus! I’d rather die!”

“Well _I won’t let you_!” The speaker crackled with excess volume.

Vanille took in a sharp breath and held it, frustrated tears prickling the corners of her eyes. Why wouldn’t she understand? It had been so awful, before. She remembered the dark sleepless bruises beneath Fang’s eyes the first few mornings after she’d become a l’cie and learned her focus. She remembered the bitter twist that had hidden at the corner of her mouth and behind everything she said or thought.

When they were crystallized, that was their salvation. The goddess of her parents’ dimly remembered bedtime stories: bidding them to turn back, turn away from their hateful focus.

She wet her lips. “There’s a girl here,” she started, “She’s my age, and she was made a Pulse l’cie.” _Because I ran away_ , she left unsaid. “She has my focus, I think, but her sister said,” she paused to clear her traitorous throat. “She said not to worry, because she’ll destroy Cocoon’s fal’cie, because they’re willing to hurt Cocoon’s _people_. What if that’s what we’re supposed to do? Not hurt anyone, but save them! And if that’s what she and Hope are doing, we should go with them, shouldn’t we?”

“Vanille…” Fang spoke haltingly. “I’m sorry for shouting.” She heard a quiet thump over the comm as Fang hit something. She continued, soft but urgent. “But I need you safe! I don’t want to risk your life on some cloud-brained scheme!”

“I believe in them,” Vanille retorted. She closed her eyes and took a deliberate breath. “I’ve decided to believe in Hope and Lightning, and I refuse to stay alive by hurting innocent people.”

Fang grunted. “Hope… Oerba Huei Hope…”

Vanille blinked. “What?”

“That’s how he introduced himself to me, when we spoke before.” She explained.

“You mean,” Vanille pressed a hand to her face. “You think he’s from Oerba?”

Fang huffed. “Well, he _said_ Pulse was his home -- said he knew how to fulfill your focus, too -- but he talked like any other Cocoon viper I’ve met.” A pause, like Fang had taken a moment to shrug. “Besides, Oerba Huei’s no lineage I’ve heard of.”

“It’s been a long time, though. And it sounds like an orphan name. Like ours.”

Another pause. “Could be,” Fang muttered finally.

“I’m going with them,” Vanille stated, her voice as firm as she could make it. “Fang… are you coming with, or not?”

\---

Snow shut the lid on one of Maqui’s scrap chests and waved Gadot over.

“Are you sure we need all this junk?” Gadot asked, then hefted it up with a grunt. “I mean, is this even gonna fit?”

There was an awful lot of junk. NORA cafe was built into an old warehouse, and so the back door of the kitchen opened into a garage given over to Maqui and Lebreau’s tinkering. Yuj helped out sometimes, but Snow and Gadot rarely ventured past the mats and weight equipment arranged by the kitchen door -- Maqui’s collection of parts and materials was too much like a maze.

Snow shrugged and took half the weight. “We can’t order off the shopping network down on Pulse.”

“Don’t worry,” Maqui said brightly from where he was organizing his and Lebreau’s toolkits. “The Pocket we got for Lenora’s Garage is rated for ten tons.”

Gadot almost fumbled his grip. “What do we need all that for?”

“We wanted to have room to sell over the shopping network, for when we start building velocycles from scratch.”

“We’ll be getting our money’s worth out of it now,” Snow said brightly. He nodded to Gadot, and they set the chest down on the space they’d cleared for the aforementioned industrial Pocket unit. As Gadot rolled his shoulders, Snow pressed the activation button and the chest disappeared with a crackle of light. “Alright, that’s another one down.”

“And how many left to go?” Lebreau asked wryly.

Snow looked up. She was leaned in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her chest. “Depends,” he replied. “How are things in the kitchen?”

“Dry goods are boxed up. We’ll need the Pocket in a bit; no way are we carrying the freezers out here.”

“Sure thing. We bringing the furniture?”

Lebreau bit her lip thoughtfully. “Leave it for last. We’ve got space, but comfort’s not gonna be our top priority. Oh!” She crossed to Maqui’s side. “Is my stuff sorted out?”

“Are any of those drill bits yours?” Maqui asked.

Lebreau hummed and looked them over. “Yeah, this three-millimeter is mine.” She put it in a small plastic case with the others, then tucked it into the smaller Pocket on her belt. “Anyway, I think we should all keep our own essentials on us. In case we lose the big one.”

Maqui nodded. “Hey, can we turn off the fans? They’re getting kind of loud.”

Snow shot a look at the perfectly still ventilation fans high on the wall and paled. “Stay here, keep packing,” he ordered, and ran to the kitchen. The kitchen fans were running, blocking out the lower noise he’d heard in the garage.

He brushed past a startled Hope and peered out the kitchen window. “I can’t quite see… there!”

“Snow?” Serah set her handful of plates on the counter and looked at him, concerned. “What is it?”

He turned back, face grim. “PSICom. There’s a troop carrier coming in to land on the far end of the beach.”

She gasped quietly. “They’ve found us? But how?”

Hope broke in. “They haven’t found us yet, or they’d be landing right outside.”

Snow gritted his teeth and nodded.

“So what do we do?” Serah asked.

“Hole up somewhere they can’t get to us.” Hope clenched a fist and walked out to the cafe area. “I should have expected this. I have to get Vanille. Keep the others out of this and they may be able to stick to the plan.”

He hurried out towards the pier, passing Yuj on his way in with an armload of root vegetables.

Yuj blinked. “What’s his problem?”

Snow met Serah’s worried eyes and took her hand in his. “Come on,” he said quietly. Then, “Stay here, Yuj. PSICom’s outside. If anyone asks, you haven’t seen us.”

Snow could see his friend beginning to protest his - admittedly abrupt - explanation. He forced a grin. “Hey, Yuj, don’t worry! You think a couple green city slickers from PSICom could take me down?”

Yuj hesitated, and Serah cut in to back him up. “Keep the others out of trouble for me, won’t you?”

“...Yeah, alright.” Yuj ran a hand through his hair. “You’re the boss, Snow.” He paused, then added, “See you later.”

“Toss me your keys, will ya?” Snow said.

Yuj did so, and joined the others out in the garage.

Then Hope returned, Vanille hovering nervously behind him. He looked down the beach again, then turned to Snow and Serah. “I don’t think they spotted us. It looks like they’re searching all the buildings near the beach.”

“What are we gonna do?” Vanille asked.

Snow wasn’t sure. If PSICom was only looking into a tip, they could just try to hide Serah until they left. But if they were determined to find her, that wouldn’t work. Snow wouldn’t put it past them to have developed some kind of Pulse detector.

He shook his head. “You two stay here with the others. Serah and I’ll escape.” He grimaced. “Somehow.”

“Are you kidding?” Hope retorted. “Light would kill me if I let you walk into trouble, Serah. And Vanille--” He tilted his face towards the girl next to him. “I told Fang I’d look after you.” He met Snow’s eyes. “We stick together.”

He said it mildly, but there was something in his expression that brooked no argument. Snow nodded slowly, conceding the point. “So I was thinking,” he said, “You said PSICom’s already lost a platoon in the Vestige, right?”

“They won’t risk losing more men,” Hope agreed.

“But Serah, you’re already a l’cie, so you’ll be safe.”

Serah knit her brows together. “What about the rest of you?”

“Don’t worry.” Snow laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re helping you, so maybe the Fal’cie will think we’re on its side.”

Vanille had been checking the beach again. “They’re getting closer,” she warned.

Snow straightened up and pulled his shoulders back. “Alright, follow me.”

NORA’s velocycles were parked around the side of the building. Snow handed Yuj’s keys to Hope and pointed out the right vehicle. He put his own key in its ignition, but didn’t turn it yet.

“They’re a block down,” Hope reported. “They’ve got a couple velocycles of their own.”

“Let’s run for it. Hold on tight, babe!” Serah wrapped her arms around his chest, and Snow turned the key and gunned the engine, leaving Hope and Vanille momentarily in the dust.

Snow shot across the beach and out over the water, then turned so they were parallel to the shore. He looked to the right and saw Hope and Vanille head off one of the PSICom ‘cycles, leading it in a chase down the beach.  The other was heading towards them.

He gunned the engine again and watched in satisfaction as the ‘cycle fell behind. No machine of Maqui’s would lose in a race. Serah yelped, and Snow turned back around.

More velocycles, pulling out from behind the PSICom troopship. They moved to surround Hope, who turned out over the water and pulled alongside Snow.

“What are the odds they know where we’re headed?” Hope shouted over the wind.

“Those clunkers don’t have our turn radius,” Snow yelled back. “Let’s draw ‘em out here, then push through on my mark.” Hope nodded.

They looped out over the water, Snow watching their PSICom pursuers over his shoulder. He could see Serah’s tight expression out of the corner of his eye, and he wished he could do more to comfort her. He tried for a reassuring smile, and she squeezed in response.

Five velocycles total. There were more troops on the ground, but that wasn’t a problem, as long as they didn’t start shooting. As for the ‘cycles, they’d taken the bait. Snow let his speed drop off slightly, and they came roaring forwards in a line to catch them.

Not yet… not yet… one hundred yards… fifty… “NOW,” Snow shouted, wrenching the handlebars around and hitting the accelerator hard. Hope dropped below the startled PSICom soldiers as they rocketed by, and Snow pulled over them instead. They shot back towards the vestige, their pursuers floundering behind them. He saw Vanille let out a cheer.

At top speed, the vestige loomed ahead in less than a minute. Snow began to slow, looking for a point of entry, but Hope went straight for a mirror-bright panel high on its structure. Snow cringed, anticipating a crash, but the velocycle and its passengers passed _through_ it instead, sending watery ripples across the surface.

Snow pulled up short.

“What… what was that?”

He shook his head at Serah’s question, then pulled a face as the ripples extended into a mess of grasping quicksilver tendrils. Was there another path? A less creepy one, maybe? But the PSICom velocycles had collected themselves and swung back around. He laid a hand over one of Serah’s. Nothing for it…

He drove through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Look how much faster this one came out. We're finally getting somewhere. :)
> 
> A parade of OCs at the start of the chapter, though the majority of Lightning's BSR comrades are actually meant to be the Blitz Squad, from Vile Peaks 200 AF. Hey, I'll leave a list, how does that sound? Yeah. 
> 
> Baxter = Captain Baxter Aubigny  
> Falcon = 1st Lieutenant Deryn Tallus  
> Ray = 2nd Lieutenant Jules Ray  
> Sarge = Master Sergeant "Sarge" (What is his name? We just don't know)  
> Torreno = Staff Sergeant Mallory "Mal" Torreno  
> Blitz = Private 1st Class Skada Bellinger  
> Thunder = Private Leo Kendric
> 
> The other four are expies of side characters I like.
> 
> And next chapter we finally move on from the 12th day. Which means more action scenes. Actually, the chase above is the first action scene I've written... ever, so I'd really appreciate feedback on it!


	6. The 12th Day - V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far: 
> 
> On Lightning’s information, Colonel Amodar incites most of the Bodhum Security Regiment to join them in mutiny. While they prepare for Bodhum’s evacuation, Vanille and Fang speak over comm and come into conflict over Vanille’s focus. The argument is cut short, however, when PSICom initiates a search of Bodhum’s waterfront, and Vanille, Snow, Serah, and Hope flee to the Vestige to elude them.

“What’s eating you?”

Nora wiped roughly at her cheeks and looked up at the unexpected voice. A handsome man sat next to her on the bench; dark skinned, his hair and beard well-groomed. “My son,” she said quietly. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

He sighed and seemed to collapse into his seat. “You too, huh?” 

Nora blinked. “You’ve lost someone?” 

“Nah, I know where he is. For all the good it does me.” He sat up and held out a hand. “Name’s Sazh Katzroy.”

“Nora Estheim,” she replied, shaking it firmly. That piqued her curiosity, but everyone she’d met lately seemed to have secrets of some kind. Better not to pry.

Sazh leaned back awkwardly. “So... did you want to talk about it?”

Yes, she thought. She really did. “He’s been missing since last night. I…” She pressed her lips together. “I know he can take care of himself. He’s fourteen, and he’s bright, but…”

“You still worry,” Sazh finished softly. “Yeah. Especially with this Purge business going down.”

“Yes.” Nora closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. “But sitting around won’t help.” She moved to stand, but as she did her sight went dark for a moment and she felt herself sway.

“Whoa there!” Sazh jumped up and steadied her. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“I… I just had lunch…” Nora grimaced. “Or, no, I- I left before it was done cooking.”

She watched Sazh’s eyebrows come down at a sharp angle. “Alright, it’s on me. Come on.”

Embarrassed by her oversight, she followed Sazh into a small bar a couple doors down. There were a couple dozen people still inside. No-one wanted to be out on the streets with PSICom around, but inside with hard drinks was another matter. Sazh led her to a quiet booth and flagged down the establishment’s single remaining overwhelmed waitress. 

“Two Phoenix Ales,” he started, and was interrupted. 

“I don’t drink.”

He paused. “One Phoenix Ale, and burger with milkshake.” There was a quiet chirp. “Right, and a house salad.”

The waitress ran off again, and Nora heard another chirp. “What is that?”

Sazh gave a short laugh and cupped a hand in front of his face. To Nora’s surprise, a chocobo chick hopped out of his hair. “My son wanted him. Then we got separated…”

Nora held out her own hands and the chick jumped across. “Hello there little one,” she murmured. She pet the chick’s head softly, prompting a series of small chirps. “She’s lovely.” Nora smiled.

“She?”

“Oh,” She met Sazh’s eyes. “It’s her wings -- males grow their first pin feathers out as chicks, but females are downy all over until they’re juveniles.”

Sazh made an expression somewhere between thoughtful and impressed. “You know a lot about chocobos. You work with them?”

“Oh no,” Nora replied, absently stroking the chick’s back. “I was studying monster biology before -- well,” she flushed, “before I got married.”

“Your drinks.” The waitress set them down, then darted off to another table before Nora had the chance to thank her. 

She set the chocobo chick down on the table, and it busied itself with exploring the booth. “Hope never had a pet,” she mused, taking up her spoon. “He asked, a few years ago, but Bartholomew said he’d only get bored and leave it for us to take care of. Maybe if…” She sighed and poked at her milkshake.

Sazh watched her fidget for a few moments, then let out an exasperated huff. “Are you gonna eat that, or are you planning to keel over of hunger soon?”

“Oh, I-- Yes.” Nora ate a spoonful. The milkshake was thick and fruity, and she felt her appetite come back all at once. She gave the glass a predatory look and scooped up another bite.

“Good.” Sazh took a sip of his own drink. “One less thing for me to worry about.” 

For several minutes, Nora ate silently. The waitress passed by again, hurriedly dropping off their food, and she looked up. Sazh was watching her with obvious relief. She felt an answering smile at the corners of her lips. “Thank you,” she said.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” Sazh replied awkwardly. “Hey Chocobo,” he pushed his salad towards the bird. “It’s got extra mimett greens. Your favorite.”

The chick set aside examining the condiments and hopped onto the salad plate. When it tried to pick up a slice of mimett the size of its own head, Nora laughed quietly. 

“Hey, I don’t see you eating that burger,” Sazh chastised. 

“I’m on it,” she replied, smiling. 

When the chocobo chick was done with the salad, Sazh doused it with dressing and finished it off. Meanwhile, she managed to eat half the burger. She pushed her plate away and found herself the target of two gimlet stares. “I’ll get a box,” she assured them. The chocobo chirped and hopped up on her shoulder. 

“I’ve been abandoned,” Sazh complained good-naturedly. He stood. “I’ll go pay the bill, alright?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to--”

He waved her off. “It’s on me this time. You can pay me back later.”

She assented and went back to petting an enthusiastic chocobo chick.

The bell over the front door rang, but Nora paid it no mind at first. When the whole bar fell quiet, however, she looked up. 

There were a pair of soldiers standing in the doorway. They weren’t carrying any obvious weapons, but their stances were confident. Their uniforms were rather… informal, compared to the Guardian Corps in Palumpolum, but the locals all looked to them attentively. 

The bartender ended up breaking the silence. “Deryn! You here on business or can I getcha a drink?” 

“Business,” the taller soldier replied. She crossed to the bar. “And for the hundredth time, Elyse, it’s Lieutenant Tallus when I’m on-duty.”

“Didn’t know you were on-duty, though,” the bartender replied with a grin. 

The lieutenant gave her a sideways look and turned to face the room. “Your Security Regiment has an announcement regarding PSICom’s announced ‘Purge’ of the town of Bodhum.” She paused. “We intend to  _ comply _ with the decision made by the government of Cocoon--” She waited a moment for the renewed noise to die down.

“The people of Bodhum are miners and fishers. You aren’t strangers to hardship or danger. You don’t fear the unknown. Your Guardian Corps are the best of the best, and we will not abandon you. We will go to Pulse, and we will  _ conquer _ it.”

Nora watched the crowd curiously. There was a table of tourists that still looked vaguely panicked, but the rest of the room watched the Lieutenant with increasing determination. She’d never had cause to notice on her previous visits, but the people of Bodhum were quite rugged underneath their carefree ‘beach town’ demeanors.

“To that end,” she continued, “the BSR recommends an informal curfew at 5pm tonight. Get home, get your families together, and pack everything you can carry. If you need additional space, there will be Bodhum troops passing out military-grade AMP pockets in front of town hall, and we encourage you to make use of them.”

“Keep calm, don’t antagonize PSICom, and be ready tomorrow morning. If we stand together, we  _ will _ get through this.”

The locals raised voices and drinks in approval. The Lieutenant favored them with a solemn nod, waved at the bartender, and left, the younger soldier trailing behind her. 

After the bar calmed down, Sazh made his way back to the booth. “Nice speech,” he remarked quietly. “How many times d’you think she’s said it today?”

“It went over so well,” she mused, impressed. “It wouldn’t, in Palumpolum.”

“This whole town’s crazy.”

Nora shook her head softly. “Only if it doesn’t work.”

\---

Lightning hadn’t heard from Hope. On the one hand, this was reasonable -- she had been working, and he knew she could handle herself. On the other hand, they were supposed to be keeping each other in the loop. Consequently, she had made sure to send him a message outlining the plans she’d made with her comrades. 

That had been over four hours ago. 

She and Torreno had one of the inland residential loops, and Torreno had made her do half the talking, so her voice was shot from hours of repeated half-truths. But they’d finally finished and circled back to town square. She had to see Hope. 

Torreno caught her arm. “Where’re  _ you  _ headed in such a hurry, Sparky?”

Lightning felt her brows draw together. Grudgingly, she turned. “I’m going to check on Serah.”

Torreno grinned, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Great, I’ll come with. Touch base with those NORA folks about helpin’ out tomorrow.”

Light grunted and started off at a ground-eating pace. Unfortunately, Torreno matched it easily. 

“Since when are you willing to work with NORA, anyway?” She asked. “You hated ‘em last week.”

“And the rest of the town loves them,” Lightning explained. Her feelings (though they’d changed), didn’t matter. “We need them.”

“Words I never thought to hear outta  _ your _ mouth.” Torreno was still grinning. 

Light sighed. 

“And speaking of unexpected, what’s the real story behind the dress?”

“I told you, it was a gift from Serah.”

“I’ve known you for seven years, Sparky, and I’ve never seen you out and about in something so floaty, gift from little sis or no.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“Miss ‘pushups at 6 a.m.’ in a hurry to get dressed?” Torreno asked slyly. “There’s a story behind that one.”

Lightning replied with a reproachful look. Smile still fixed on her face, Torreno subsided.

And then they were at the cafe. Maqui and Lebreau met them at the door, stress obvious. She closed her eyes. “Where are they?”

Lebreau was the one to answer. “PSICom was searching the beachfront. Snow told us to stay inside-”

“Did you?”

“Hell no. Yuj and I watched them, but…” Lebreau bit her cheek. “They’re in the  _ Vestige _ , Lightning.”

Light slumped slightly against the counter, relief at an explanation warring with new anxiety. 

Because Serah being trapped in the Vestige, and more people in the Fal’cie Anima’s grabbing range, that was something they had wanted to prevent. But she’d forgotten how it happened the first time, and now--

“What the hell, Sparky?”

Light jerked. “Torreno-”

She kept talking. “Who  _ exactly _ is running from PSICom, and why?” She crossed her arms. “Don’t make me bring the Colonel into this.”

Lightning met Torreno’s eyes. Serious. Implacable. She couldn’t get around this. They were safe for the moment, at least.

“Serah.” She clenched a fist. “Serah’s a l’cie, and they’re after her.”

“Little sis?” Torreno sat on one of the tabletops with a thump. “Lindzei’s ass, Sparky, you’re stuck in it.”

That prompted a faint smile. “If they’re in the Vestige,” she commented to Lebreau, “it explains why I can’t reach Hope. No reception.”

“Will they be alright?” That was Maqui.

“Hope will keep them out of trouble,” Lightning reassured him. “Go fetch the others. We need to talk about tomorrow.”

Maqui scrambled off to the back room. Lightning spared a glance at Torreno, who looked faintly stunned, but still raised an eyebrow at her and pointedly started a conversation with Lebreau.

Well, she’d definitely taken note of her mentions of Hope. Maybe she’d get a reprieve, if she didn’t flush too obviously. She had seen what it looked like when Torreno scented blood in the water, and she was not looking forward to her turn.

Maqui returned with with Gadot and Yuj in tow. Briefly, Torreno explained the specifics of what the BSR would need from them the next morning. That done, they returned to the square. Diniz and Irisa were nearby, handing out surplus AMP Pockets. They’d already exhausted the supply they had on base, but someone had brought a few dozen more down from the mines, all industrial-class. If they made it to Pulse --  _ when _ they made it, rather -- the people of Bodhum would have more than the clothes on their backs.

Lightning and Torreno went to the Colonel, who had made himself available for questions from the populace. The answers mostly amounted to ‘follow directions’, but more importantly Amodar was a calming influence.

“Farron, Torreno,” the Colonel greeted warmly. “Did your route go well?”

“Smooth as velvet, Sir,” said Torreno. “Stopped by NORA too. The kids’re ready to help out tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Lightning broke in. “There is a complication, Colonel. Earlier, I mentioned having a source.” At his prompting nod, she continued. “He’s out of contact, Sir.”

His boot tapped on the paving stones. “What does that mean for us?”

“Hopefully, nothing.” Which hurt to say, but she couldn’t ask the Colonel to make Hope and Serah the BSR’s problem. “But he’s the one with a secure connection with the Cavalry, so if there’s a complication on their end--”

Amodar cut her off with a reassuring hand to her shoulder. “Then I’ll contact Raines directly. Information security won’t matter for long tomorrow.” He let go. “You’ve done well, Farron. Go and get some rest. You too, Torreno.” 

They saluted and obeyed. Torreno’s home was near her own, so they were twenty feet from Lightning’s door when time came to split up. 

“So,” Torreno said lightly. “This mysterious ‘source’. He the same guy you apparently trust with your sister?”

Lightning cursed under her breath. “I have to pack for Serah too,” she said, hurrying for her front steps. 

“I expect to hear everything tomorrow, Sparky!” Torreno shouted after her. 

Lightning shut the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey buddies guess whose update rate is _improving_ that's right it's meee. With this, the 12th day is officially finished. More or less. As usual, I love to receive feedback. 
> 
> Next time I get to suffer through writing a kajillion action scenes so uh. Wish me luck.


	7. The 13th Day: The Purge - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story so far:
> 
> While wandering Bodhum, Nora makes the acquaintance of Sazh and his chocobo chick. Meanwhile, Lightning learns that the others have been trapped on the Vestige, but she can’t go after them: the Security Regiment’s preparations are well underway. The people of Bodhum will make their escape from the government that has condemned them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning in this chapter for a scene evocative of police/military brutality. If you need to skip it, search "loud whining" when you get to the part where a young man stumbles. 
> 
> It's probably not that bad? But better safe than sorry.

The morning of the Purge dawned bright and warm, as it had the last time around. Lightning thought it might almost be insulting -- on second thought, the fal’Cie controlled the weather, so it was _definitely_  insulting that it was so nice out, given what the Primarch planned for Bodhum later in the day.

She had a severe sense of deja vu, at first, waking in the morning and gearing up. But there were differences. She left earlier, but the streets were a little less quiet; no atmosphere of despair had taken root. In her memories, the town had breathed dread. Then, too, the last time she hadn’t had Torreno with her. Luckily Torreno wasn’t a morning person, which was probably the only reason she hadn’t tried to fit in some teasing before the operation started.

True to her memory, there were six trains at the station. Prepared in advance by PSICom, they sat one behind the other. Five cars each, a maximum capacity of about a thousand people per train -- they’d be nowhere near that maximum, though. Bodhum was small, and PSICom wanted everyone seated.

Another difference: this time, Lighting would be on the first train instead of the last.

Lightning and Torreno reached the front of the line, where a pair of PSICom agents stood holding distastefully large guns. One of them made a vaguely familiar crack about the Guardian Corps, which Torreno ignored but for a small sneer. They were directed one by one to don Penitent’s Robes, their arms shackled in the sleeves, and then another pair of agents escorted them to a seat on the train.

They worked it all out the day before. The BSR would be split, a pair to each train. That left one person extra, but Ray would stick with the rookies Kendrick and Bellinger. In her past, the fighting was well underway by the time the last train reached the Hanging Edge. It would be their job to prevent that this time.

Filled to capacity, the doors closed and the train shuddered into movement. A PSICom guard paced the length of their car -- _pacing_ , another example of PSICom’s general lack of experience, competence, and common sense -- but this time Lightning wouldn’t be capitalizing on the mistake.

Well. Not _too_  much. While his circuit of the car had him faced the other way, she twisted the magnetic lockpick hidden in her glove. Her manacles clicked open, but she kept her sleeves together for now. Across the way, Torreno gave a surreptitious thumbs up and then did the same.

The view out the windows was incongruously beautiful. Even with the BSR’s work the day before, the mood inside the train was strained. But outside was a wide stretch of blue water, and then a lush green headland.

Of course, the presence of a hostile PSICom agent with a gun kept everyone in the car facing the floor rather than the landscape, but Lightning let herself enjoy the quality of light coming through the windows, at least.

The light changed when the tracks ran down the side of a steep canyon, and again as they went through a tunnel and entered into the Hanging Edge.

The train came to a calm stop, a contrast to the bad memories playing on loop in the back of Lightning’s head. She had fought for more than half of her life, but the battle at the Hanging Edge -- humans firing on each other, _soldiers_  slaughtering outgunned civilians -- that had been a special kind of unpleasant. Lightning carefully tucked those thoughts away, and stood when directed.

The people of Bodhum formed a slow, shuffling mob shaped vaguely like a line, Lightning and Torreno subtly making their way to the front of it. The PSICom agents from the train didn’t escort them; there were different agents for that, and pockets standing guard along the length of the hanging walkway.

“Where’re the ships?” Torreno asked under her breath.

Lightning shook her head slightly. Nearby. _God_ , hopefully nearby, or on the way. But there was still time.

In the gap between one set of guards and the next, Lightning and Torreno stopped pretending manacled arms and pulled back their hoods. This, too, was part of the plan. It was a small thing, but they hoped the BSR pair visible at the head of each group would help keep everyone calm. The new set of PSICom guards, meanwhile, would assume the last set unshackled them deliberately.

PSICom was that kind of group; communication was poor, and anyone who admitted any ignorance or failure was bound to suffer for it sooner or later. Usually sooner. It was a culture that PSICom’s instructors felt produced superior agents, and perhaps it did -- but members of the Guardian Corps all over Cocoon agreed it made for laughably bad soldiers.

This was clearly apparent in the way they’d set up the guards. A single agent for each train car, a pair on each of the platforms, and now: a single squad of six, to escort over three hundred people. Considering the comparatively massive manpower PSICom actually had at its disposal… it was a decision that made a lot more sense as a deliberate trap. A mob could overpower a single squad, and then Jihl Nabaat and Primarch Dysley would have their excuse and justification in one to turn the Purge into a massacre.

These agents wouldn’t know that -- after all, they were intended as the sacrificial lambs for that little plan. But they didn’t question the situation. And they’d clustered at the front of the line, instead of spreading out to chivvy the crowd into keeping an orderly pace.

The walkway was long and straight. They marched quietly and nothing much happened. The end of the walkway was still a ways off, the Edge proper was even further, and the tension of the crowd was thick. And then, after a quarter hour or so, the guards grew bored. Grew impatient. Uncomfortable, even.

Lightning doubted their briefing had spent much time on what they ought to do with _cooperative_  prisoners.

So when a young man a little ways back from the front stumbled on the too-long hem of his robe, the two PSICom escorts positioned furthest back jumped on the opportunity. The kid picked himself up as fast as he could, but then a PSICom agent was there to knock him back down again with the butt of his gun. The woman next to him let out an indignant cry, but her neighbors hemmed her in with their bound arms.

“Trying to resist, huh?” He said, a voice with affected gruffness echoing a little through the mask. “Thought you could duck out?”

His accomplice spoke up. “Maybe he’s a traitor for Pulse.” He got in the kid’s scared face. “Is that it? You trying to sabotage our work, brat?”

“Shit.” Said Torreno. She and Lightning exchanged a look and started moving through the crowd.

Now the other four guards had stopped and turned to watch. The one at the front -- that one had the highest rank insignia, though Lightning had forgotten what specific rank is signified -- looked by their posture to be deeply unimpressed, but didn’t move to intervene. Another strike against PSICom, when commanders took no responsibility for their team’s conduct. The agent next to the commander was watching the crowd instead, a wary set in the way they held their weapon.

“It was an accident,” the kid protested, panicked. “I’m sorry, I’m going, I’m going- ah!”

The first agent cuffed him again. Oh _shit_ , that was Amodar’s nephew. That meant the woman was--

“You sons of _bitches_! You cowards!” Amodar’s sister was pushing past the neighbors who’d tried to restrain her. “Leave my boy alone, you- you flans!”

They both bristled, turning away from the boy in favor of his mother. Hands still bound in her sleeves, she did her best to punch the one who struck her son. He dodged, and she was restrained by the other.

“That’s assault on an agent of Eden.” The gruff-voiced one said darkly. The crowd now held its collective breath, perched on the precipice of action. Heavily, he hauled back the butt of his weapon, aiming to strike her in the face--

And Torreno pushed her way through just ahead of Lightning, grabbing the gun before he could strike.

“You don’t wanna do that.” She said it with cold civility, but her eyes held bloody intent. The agent was stunned into stillness, and Lightning took the moment to check the position of the rest of the agents. The one who’d been watching the crowd was hefting their gun. An angry civilian woman was one thing. An angry soldier was a rallying point.

Lightning positioned herself at Torreno’s back, facing the other agents. Her hand drifted to the quick-release on her Pocket.

The gruff-voiced PSICom agent took a loud breath, and--

A whining cut through the air and the tension. Lightning looked up. A massive ship passed overhead, not a troop ship, but an old cargo hauler. From the sound of the engines, it was on its last legs. But if it would fit everyone, it would be worth the bumpy ride.

There was another slightly smaller cargo ship a thousand yards or so behind. It was in considerably better shape than the first, but it still looked well-used. The way the light glinted off the side indicated a row of windows; this one actually had a small passenger deck. Both ships were painted with Cavalry identification -- probably they came from its small supply fleet.

Ungently, Torreno released her grip on the PSICom agent’s weapon. She drew herself up, and with an air of command that Lightning envied a bit, she said, “You’re wasting time, soldier. We have places to be.”

Oh, that brought _all_  their hackles up, she could tell that even with their masks. The agent holding Amodar’s sister released her and moved to retort, but Lightning cut in. “You all have your orders,” she called out. “The people of Bodhum are to be escorted off Cocoon. _Fulfill them_.”

The others looked uncertain, but when the commander backed down, the others followed suit. Huh. The commander had a little influence after all.

The path branched off to the left a hundred meters or so ahead. At the end of that little branch was a wide plaza; the two ships settled in a hover along its edge and put out ramps. Something inside of Lightning unclenched. _There_. They had their escape route.

She didn’t let her hope show on her face. Instead, she swept a level look across the squad of PSICom agents, turned on her heel, and kept walking.

“Keep moving, everyone!” Torreno shouted to the crowd. A moment later, she settled into Lightning’s pace. The PSICom escort had bunched up along one side of the column. Torreno glanced at them and spoke to Lightning out of the corner of her mouth. “They’re cliquish little things, aren’t they?”

“It’s good for us,” Lightning replied. “If they’d been spread along the line from the start, if they’d picked a fight further back--”

Torreno snorted. “I don’t wanna think about it. But hey, their shit training is our good luck.”

Lightning tilted her head in agreement.

The front of the line reached the plaza without further incident. The crowd was disorganized, though, and it’d take longer for the back of the line to catch up. The PSICom squad did a little huddle, then arranged themselves to bracket each of the ramps. The two troublemakers, she noticed, had been positioned firmly in arm’s reach of the commander.

Up close, they could see the ships’ designations painted on the sides in tall white letters. The larger one was called the Albrook, the smaller was the Leuda.

Torreno set her hands on her hips, appraising them both. “Should we load the big one first, do ya think?”

Lightning hummed quietly. “The Leuda. We can fill that passenger deck before it gets too crowded, and if we’re in a hurry at the end, the Albrook won’t have as much danger of a crush.”

Torreno cocked her head to the side, then nodded. She turned and addressed the crowd. “Alright all,” she shouted. “Head up the ramp to your left, go upstairs, and go _all_  the way to the back before you take a seat. Fill those gaps!”

The crowd kept moving, and as the ship slowly swallowed it up, Lightning allowed the small bud of hope and relief in her chest bloom a little more.

\---

Serah’s brand was hurting again.

It had burned constantly at first, then settled into throbbing dully for the last week, or stinging sharply whenever she thought about it too much. But yesterday, she had barely felt it at all.

Now, though, she could _feel_  the proximity of the fal’Cie who branded her, and the stabbing pains were back. It had kept her awake since their close escape. In fact-- she bit back a hiss and gripped her arm.

They had a campfire on the floor, because Hope was some kind of crazy prepared weirdo who kept food and water and bundles of wood on his person (in his AMP Pocket, specifically) at all times. Across the fire, Hope looked up sharply. “How is it?”

She bit her lip. “It’s not so bad.” Snow shifted closer, and Serah smiled up at him. “Really. It only hurts a little.”

From Hope’s answering expression, Serah thought perhaps she’d been less than persuasive.

He approached her and knelt down. “Let me see it.”

“Hey, don’t be so pushy!” Snow protested.

“We have to know how far it’s progressed,” Hope replied impatiently. To Serah, he continued more softly. “I only need to look at your arm.”

Serah laid a hand on Snow’s. “It’s fine, Snow.” She unwound the bandages over the brand and turned the shoulder towards Hope. “It keeps changing. I… try not to look at it, though.” _It feels like a doomsday clock_ , she didn’t say.

Hope hummed softly, fingers brushing over her arm. Then he smiled. “That’s a relief,” he said.

What? “How?” Serah asked, her expression plaintive.

His thumb dragged across the brand, numb and stinging at once. “Here,” he explained. “In the middle. The eye has started to open, but only just.” He let go of her arm, nodded at Snow, and moved back. “If you keep moving forward, and don’t fall to despair, we’ll have-” he stopped himself, then continued. “Well, suffice to say there’s plenty of time yet to find a long-term solution.” He smiled sheepishly. “Just, uh. Don’t panic or anything.” He muttered something under his breath about experience, but Serah couldn’t make it out.

“Anyway,” Hope put his hands to his knees and stood. “Speaking of long-term solutions, the Vestige is a good place to start looking. And since we’re stuck here anyway for the time being...” He turned to Vanille. “Would you like to investigate with me?”

Vanille. The girl from the beach. Serah felt like they had become close, in that unique way that only perfect strangers could be. But ever since they’d met again, she’d been so very quiet. After they landed in the Vestige -- well, crashed, really -- she sat with her face in her knees, taking turns shooting glances at Serah and Hope.

When Hope addressed her, Vanille gathered herself visibly. She hopped up and stretched. “Sure!” She said with brightness Serah could tell was deliberate. “Where should we start?”

“Why don’t we wander until something catches our eye?”

“Sounds good!” Vanille agreed. She waved back at Snow and Serah. “Then, later!”

She skipped ahead and up a set of stairs before Serah could decide whether to ask to come along, and Hope followed.

\---

The room where they’d crashed was cavernous, hundreds of meters tall with impossible architecture almost hanging haphazardly within the open space.

“What is this chamber called?” Hope asked once they were out of earshot.

“This is the House of Stairs,” Vanille answered softly. “The main room, sort of. You can reach most of the other rooms through here.”

Hope nodded. “Are there any that serve as a library, or a history?” He waggled a hand. “Something like priests’ records, maybe?”

Vanille tapped a finger to her chin. “This way, I think?” She pointed at a little balcony against the distant wall. “We can catch platform from just over here.” She lead the way, and Hope followed. “Why do you want to see it?”

“There are a lot of reasons.” Hope said. “I never had the opportunity to learn much about Oerba’s beliefs, so I’m curious. And the fal’Cie Anima marked you and Serah as l’Cie. Under the circumstances, it’s prudent to learn as much as we can.”

“Wait, so are you from Oerba or aren’t you?” Vanille asked.

“I was born on Cocoon,” he replied. “Though I’ve lived on Gran Pulse since I was fourteen.”

“In Oerba?”

He hesitated. “Well, no. Oerba isn’t… I was named family by some precious friends who came from Oerba.” His eyes gazed unfocused at something Vanille couldn’t see. “After they-- died, I remembered some things they’d said about the way things used to be, there, and I picked that name for myself. To keep them close, you know? Though I didn’t start _using_  it until recently.”

“It’s gone, isn’t it.” Vanille’s voice was flat.

Hope’s eyes were soft. “I’m sorry.”

Her hands had curled into fists. She relaxed them. “It’s fine.” She said lightly. “I, I was expecting that. It’s been so- so long, after all, I--”

Courteously, Hope didn’t comment on the breaks in her voice, her hitching breath. Instead, he spoke. “So the Huei clan, they were engineers. From Paddra, though, not Oerba. Did Oerba have a clan like that too?”

“What?” Vanille cleared her throat. “Oh, yes. When something in Oerba needed fixing, you fetched a Nadi clansman to do it. Well, the last I saw of Tavi and Yanafer they were just making war machines…”

Hope pressed past her wistful reminiscence. “I’m an engineer myself. More than anything, anyway.”

Vanille took the out he’d provided. “Then you wear the name well!”

“Thank you.”

They subsided into silence and made their way to the records room. The elevator platform glided smoothly across the empty space. When they alighted on the records-room’s little balcony, the heavy door in the wall lifted open.

“I’ve never been allowed in here,” Vanille confessed. “Only the priest was, and his initiates, if Anima decreed it.”

Like all the other rooms in the Vestige that Vanille had seen, the records room was large and open. It was circular, its walls ornamented in industrial patterns and bright metals, the lighting cleverly hidden so it seemed to come from nowhere. This room seemed untouched by time. There was a large table in its center with a handful of heavily constructed metal chairs, and two rings of freestanding shelves circled the room.

Hope approached the nearest shelf, eyes running over the assortment of books, scrolls, tablets, and projectors. His hands he kept at his sides for now.

“What sort of records were kept here?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. All of Oerba’s birth and marriage records were kept by the initiates, but the rest of it was a secret. Sacred to Anima and Pulse, you know? We only knew what the priest told us in sermons.”

“Hmm.” Hope met her eyes briefly. “Are you comfortable going through these?”

Vanille thought about it for a moment, then snickered. “The priest was a nasty old man, anyway. So was his replacement. Their sacred secrets can stuff it.”

“All right, then where should we start?”

A very good question. She started a circuit of the room, examining the contents of the shelves. There was no real hint as to their contents -- probably there  _was_  some kind of organizational system, but they’d have to start reading to find it.

Across the room, Hope spoke up. “This one’s a lot fuller than the others.”

He was stood in front of a unit whose arm level shelf was overflowing with pin-bound books with carved and painted wooden covers.

“ _Oh_ ,” Vanille crossed the room. “I recognize those. Those are the family records, I mentioned them before.” She ran her fingers across the spines, starting at one end. “I don’t see the latest one-- well, it _was_  the latest one, before Fang and I left.”

Hope nodded consideringly. “And after you left, the Vestige ended up on Cocoon, too.”

“I guess the priest usually kept the current volume with him.”

Hope pulled out the one at the end of the row and opened it. “This is beautiful,” he commented. It was. He’d opened to the biography section. The pages were parchment, and each individual had a page to themselves. Their name and birth, their parents, and below that their milestones like coming-of-age and profession and marriage. It also listed major accomplishments. Some people had more of those than others, enough for extra pages, even. Finally it listed a person’s children, and their death date once it was applicable.

There was another section for family trees and notable clan events, and a section for legal disputes and their resolutions, and another for records of weather and harvests and other things that concerned the whole village. But the clan pages and biography pages were hand illuminated. They _were_  beautiful.

Each of these books represented the record-keeping of a generation or more. A perfect history of her people. Vanille cleared her throat. “I’d like to hold on to these,” she said softly.

Hope gave her another look -- she’d noticed that about him, he was capable of such calm, serious expressions, it was very affecting -- and he carefully closed the book in his hands. “That sounds like a very good idea,” he said softly. “How’s your AMP Pocket?”

Well, she _had_  one. She had a credit chip she and Fang had ah-- _acquired,_  before they split up. Afterwards, when she’d figured out where people kept stowing things, she bought one for herself. But…

“I’m not sure they’ll fit.”

Hope cocked his head. “May I have a look?”

Vanille unpinned the little device from where she had it fastened between her skirt and her fur mantle. She handed it to Hope, who took it delicately and examined the marks on its side.

“It’s Mog brand,” he said, after a moment. “A good middle-of-the-road model. One like this should hold about a hundred and twenty pounds. How much have you got in there?”

Vanille shrugged. “Barely anything. My binding rod, food. Some monster parts.”

“It’ll use up the better part of the holding capacity, but you can definitely take these.”

He handed the Pocket back along with the book he’d been looking at, and Vanille took them delicately. “I will. Thank you.” She pressed the book against the AMPP’s activation pad, and it disappeared into the Pocket’s separate space.

“I’ll look around while you pack the rest of those up.”

She agreed, and began adding books. “Say,” she called out after a moment, “Your pocket thingy, how much does _it_  hold?” She’d seen him use it  when they started the fire, it was hooked to the back of his belt. It had a very different look to hers.

“Oh, two tons or so,” Hope replied absently.

_Isn’t that a lot?_  Vanille wondered to herself.

Hope continued. “Come to think of it, I can pack up whatever won’t fit in your AMPP’s capacity.” Carefully, he picked up a scroll and frowned. “This one is paper. I don’t want to open it in an uncontrolled environment, it might just break apart.”

Vanille’s eyes widened. “That can happen?” She remembered the state of the things left in front of hers and Fang’s crystal forms, and flinched away from the next book on the shelf.

“With paper,” Hope reassured her quickly. “Parchment and wood holds up better. And Pulse technology is practically indestructible; we can handle the projectors as much as we like.” He gently packed away a handful of scrolls, then picked up one such projector that had been lying next to them. “How about this one?”

Vanille joined him at the table. He held out the projector, and she took it, setting its flat side on the table and running her fingers over the ornamented surface. It was shaped like a large egg cut in half, and on its surface-- “That’s Anima’s mark. It’s the same one I have.”

“So it’s religious? What is it about?”

She hummed. “Depends.” She smiled, then, feeling intrepid. “Let’s find out!” Hope made an agreeing noise, and she took that as permission enough to press the play button tucked into the ornamentation.

The device booted, an indistinct moving image drawn in blue and green light hung in the air above it. It looked like an elaborately-dressed individual making a speech -- no, like a dozen different individuals, overlaid on one another. There was a noise like static, and after a moment, halfway through a sentence, it resolved into a chorus of voices.

\--AND **H** ALLOWED **P** ULSE HELD TO HIS FATHER’S WISHES,  
AND LED FAL’ **C** IE TO AID HIM IN THE CULTIVATION  
OF **T** HE **M** AKER’S GREAT CREATION.  
BUT **L** INDZEI, IN HIS SELFISHNESS,    
SHUNNED THE DUTY HE’D BEEN GIVEN,  
FORSOOK CREATION.  
  
HE TOOK TO THE SKY AND, SPITEFUL,  
TORE AT THE WORKS IN HIS BROTHER’S CHARGE.  
**S** AGE WAS **L** INDZEI NAMED, BUT ONLY POISON NOW DRIPS FROM HIS LIPS;  
**L** INDZEI PLOTS WITH **T** HE **F** OOL TO SEE THE END OF EVERYTHING.  
  
THUS IS IT ANIMA’S MISSION TO STAND AGAINST **L** INDZEI AND HIS SERVANTS,  
THUS IS IT OUR HOLY DUTY TO DESTROY **L** INDZEI IN HIS NEST.

The image froze for a few seconds, then cut out. 

“Huh.” Hope said after a long pause. “That’s interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOURTEEN MONTHS AGO, I told you all I had a kajillion action scenes to write. Well, here's one (1). There are a couple more to come in this arc, but expect a _much_ smaller gap between chapters this time because I'm doing a (reduced) NaNo challenge and Time's Heartbeat is the sole beneficiary.
> 
> Also, I Am An Adult And I Can Commit To Projects Dammit.
> 
> Side note, you may notice a retcon to Bodhum's population.  
> Its population, including visitors, is around 1,800 people, and past me is Dumb and Wrong for saying otherwise.
> 
> I decided this unilaterally based on the size of my own beachside hometown, and now it is Law.


End file.
